


FIC: NEVER SAY DIE Ch. 1:  And A Bucket of Rum

by elessil, Hippediva



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-22
Updated: 2010-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elessil/pseuds/elessil, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hippediva/pseuds/Hippediva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>POST-AWE after credits special *wink*  DEFINITE SPOILERS FOR AWE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current music:** | Whiiirrrrrr...fan  
---|---  
**Entry tags:** |  [fiction](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/tag/fiction)  
  
_**FIC: NEVER SAY DIE Ch. 1: And A Bucket of Rum**_  
DISCLAIMER: Rodent Empire owns 'em. We be pirates.  
AUTHORS: [](http://elessil.livejournal.com/profile)[**elessil**](http://elessil.livejournal.com/) and [](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/profile)[**hippediva**](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/)  
PAIRING: Jack/Norrington, Tia  
RATING: PG

SUMMARY: POST-AWE after credits special *wink* DEFINITE SPOILERS FOR AWE

There was something quite depressing about being an ex-Pirate Lord. Of all the things that had plagued Jack since 1706...he seemed to recall it had been May...being robbed of that distinction without any visible profit to himself...not counting his flag and, of course, his life, was as bleak as a winter gale. He squinted at the sun and leaned forward to study the chart, fingers tapping and turning the pieces.

If Barbossa thought that just because he'd gone to all that trouble to fetch him back from the late Captain Jones receptacle, where-ever in hell that was, Jack Sparrow was ever going to be without an ace up his sleeve, he really must have been braindead.

Jack scratched his head. Not a comfortable thought. He glanced around rapidly, relieved to find himself alone.

No other selves emerged out of the dinghy's rather leaky bottom, or hung from the spit masquerading as a mast to taunt him with his own eyes, his own words.

More rum.

He leaned back to grab the bottle and yelped.

He was mid-drink before his eyes opened and fixed on the white-gray crustacean snapping tiny claws at him. He ignored it, swallowed and prepared for another guzzle when his nose twitched. At the same time, one of those sinkingly real cold shivers ran straight down his spine to where he was absently rubbing his sore backside.

He swallowed again, looked three times in each direction, spat over the side and lounged. 'Still not quite yerself, Jack ole man. Yer really gonna wind up in bedlam if you keep ima.....gin.....ning...."

"You belong dere all your life, Jack, me boy."

"Least it's a crab. Not a rock. I hate inquisitive rocks."

"Had pretty ship of you stolen again, quick like you steal always?"

Jack pouted and sniffed. "I fail t'see the relevance." His sudden smile was malicious. "You've just gone t'pieces, haven't ya?"

"You too clever for own good, Jack Sparrow. Dat crab is not yours. It belong to da sea."

The wind picked up and hissed against the merrily fluttering Jolly Roger. "Throw it into da sea!" Words low and smooth, the female voice deep and seductive.

"Of course. Throw it in the sea." Jack held the small crab between two fingers, eyeing it curiously. "Why should I throw it in the sea because voices in me head are tellin' me to do it? They always steer ya wrong ways round, y'know? It cannot have escaped you that I'm talkin' to a crab."

"And a crab is talking to you, Jack Sparrow. Throw it into da sea!" A sharp wail in the wind, an impatient hiss.

Jack's lips twisted into a razor smile. "An' the crab is captain?" He set the small creature down, jerking his hand back from the tiny claws. "I could just squash you under my bootheel an' forget all about this conversation. Embarrassin', y'know, having crabs walkin' about, tellin' their friends stories about me."

Jack Sparrow was always two jumps ahead of the mark.

"If I throw you back in there, luv, wot profit is there fer me? I get nothin'. An' I've had a bad bargain of this all round."

Another angry rush of wind, throwing one of his braids to clack against his baldric. Then the voice was back, low again and rumbling with forced laughter. "But what profit dere be keeping it? It no use to you, Jack Sparrow. And it may drink rum."

"Then I'll be talkin' to a drunken crab. I must say I'm not happy about chasin' after my ship, luv. That seems a bit of a scurvy trick, don't you know?" Jack's mind raced from rum to Barbossa, strutting on his quarterdeck! He couldn't very well ask for the Dutchman and her Pirate Turner father and son team; it seemed rude. Besides, trust the whelp to have scruples with a curse. He'd be no help at all! And it might remind her that romance with humans didn't always work out very well either way, which would result in a massive display of female rage with him on his onesies and no other target around.

Unthinkable.

Jack sighed dramatically and tried to buy some time. "I got inta this fer th' Pearl, darlin' and I think I've held up my end. I never breathed a word t'anyone. Cross me heart I never did." He almost believed himself, just the way she always believed him---or disbelieved him with a smile. "Y've always been so good t'me. I was fair scuppered, I was an' I knew you had t' be behind it."

"Tia only give fate little push. Long written before what happens, me Jack, but you charm Fortune same way you do me."

"So I can have my ship back? Pleease?" he wheedled.

A low laugh. " I canno bring back dey ship to you, Jack."

Jack sulked. "Well that's a fine thing, innit? All-bloody powerful an' can't do a little thing like---." His head shot up, eyes narrowed. "How'd you bring old Hector back, luv?"

"He were only dead. Tiny thing, dat. And I won't be woman to take Pearl from him."

He gnawed on his lip and let the wind play in his hair, like fingers against his cheek, insubstantial and fleeting. Barely there. He glanced at the sea surrounding the little dinghy, stretching out in endless waves, currents crossing each other far into the horizon. The little boat was ringed round with mist, so fine it was hardly more than a wet, tantalising touch. Barely there.

Oho! Jack grinned. One piece missin' and the whole thing doesn't quite work as planned, eh? He swallowed his smile and composed himself. "I do beg yer pardon, darlin'. I just thought, you bein' what you are, you could be anythin', really. Crabs is rather....pinchy."

"Crabs be just fine. Dey live in the sea and ashore, and no one know their true nature. Jack Sparrow - my Jack - won't you do Tia well and throw dat thing into the sea?

"Tia, luv, I would be honoured, but y'see I've got a little problem. My bloody ship is gone missin' an' I do think ya might have a thought fer me tender feelin's on that matter. It does seem a bit hard. No ship, no crew save that as has been pinched by that bugger Barbossa. Whom, I believe, you were responsible fer bringin' back from a well-deserved cave. Grave, I mean."

Jack wanted another drink very much, but he wasn't sure enough of the situation to take his eyes off the tiny, pearl-white creature, scuttling frantically from one side of the dinghy to the other.

"Hector were good to Tia, but he failed. Jack, grand lover of freedom, won't you grant it to me? You give Tia her freedom, and she will give you aid to get back precious ship of yours."

Jack preened, twirling his moustache and his erratic memory hopscotched back to that shack upriver. His eyes were gleaming. "Ahh. Pity 'bout that, luv. But Hector never really knew ya until later, aye? You say you'll get me the Pearl back but how can I know that the gettin' isn't going t'be you losin' yer temper wif ole Jackie?"

He squinted. "I want my Pearl! Didn't go through all this just t'lose 'er all over again." He, of course, neglected to mention fountains of any kind.

"We have a deal? I give you help in getting back you precious Pearl, and you set me free? And you know Tia likes you."

"I know Tia likes me. Sometimes, luv, yer likin' can be th' death of a man." He grinned. "Wot say you t'this? You help me get th' Pearl an' then I set you free. Luv, ye've got t'understand my very natural fears that yer gonna hit the water an' get mad. An' ye'll pardon my mentionin' it, but I don't think ye'd fit in this dinghy."

"You set me free once you have back de ship? I give you help. And if help drown you, Tia will be free too." There was a low shriek in the wind, then silence.

Jack eyed the crab sidelong. Now or never, take it or leave it. Just because he came back once didn't mean he couldn't find himself in an endless sea with no dinghy at all. "Awright! awright! We have an accord! Negotiatin' wif women gives me a headache!" Jack noted petulantly that the rum was nearly gone and heaved a sigh.

When he looked back, the miniscule crab seemed to sparkle at him. He bent closer and reached for it.

It pinched his finger.

"OW!" He nursed the injured digit in his mouth, watching curiously as it scuttled a few paces, then stilled and changed colour, fading from luminescence to dulled silver. He picked it up, turning it between grimy fingers. Another talisman?

That made him feel properly himself, as he stuffed it in his pocket and wondered what would happen next. The sun arched overhead and the little sail was not much protection. He tipped his hat over his eyes and waited.

When he cracked one eye open, the sea was deep amber, fading off into blackness. A ribbon of flame ebbed and flowed towards the setting sun.

So much for the promises of dubious shellfish.

Jack's boots were more than a little damp and he began to bail.

He was too busy having a running argument with the bucket to notice anything more than a greenish brightening of light from the corner of his eye.

Jack scowled at the fading light and sparked the lantern with his pistol. It would be a long night, but he assumed he would have plenty of company in his head. He wondered if he should have waited for Gibbs, then looked at the last ruby beams glinting off the woefully-depleted rum and shook his head.

The seas were easy and he had only to nudge the tiller. He took a long look around him at the vast moving waters, gauging the tiny curls of wavelets, marking where they eddied around a bit of flotsam, drifting just outside the dying light. Big bit of jetsam, that, bobbing along with its blue and yellow beginning to melt into the twilight.

There was a splash and it began to movie, steadily towards his dinghy.

Jack scuttled back to the tiller and hugged the rum.

"Can't be the beastie. An' if Cotton's parrot got human legs, I'll eat my hat!" His lips twitched as he guzzled.

A hand, long and shaking, reached up and clenched around the wood, followed by another, then a face, near as white as the tiny crab. Through draggled wet hair and shocked green eyes, James Norrington blinked at him.

Jack shrieked and nearly tumbled himself overboard. He gulped. "Shoo. Go 'way!" He stared at the hoarfrost face with a clutch of terror somewhere deep inside his guts. He ignored it.

"I said 'shoo!'" He clutched at the rum bottle and the tiller, then rolled his eyes and held out a hand. "I don't think this is much of a bargain!"

Norrington did not take it, but after brief hesitation, pulled himself aboard. He winced and stared around himself, strangely silent. With squared shoulders, he marched to the other side of the dinghy and seated himself, only a glimmer in the green eyes and a shudder disturbing his quiet dignity.

Jack thought he smelled peanuts. He looked around furtively and eyed the rum. "I don't suppose you can explain how you got t'be takin' a swim out here?"

Norrington stared disconcertingly, then, finally, slowly and to himself, spoke, "So this is hell." His voice was hoarse and he seemed to start at that, glancing at the horizon hastily.

Jack snorted. "Sixth Circle, Heretics. Don't ask me. Apparently there's something wrong with their filin' system."

"I must say, I had imagined hellish tortures to be somewhat less...profane. But they are effective, I suppose."

"I refuse to be confused wif some Beelzebubblish minion. Last time I looked, I was in the Caribbean and the moon's waxin' gibbous."

"And you are waxing gibberish, it would seem."

"Matey, where I've been, gibberish is better n' scripture." Jack checked to make sure by sticking out his tongue and looking at it until he was cross-eyed. "I thought you were dead."

"Does that mean you have decided to haunt me for all eternity?"

"Me hauntin' you? Why would I do that? I could ask you th same thing, mate. Last night I got properly drunk at the Bride an' now you're here. Wot were YOU doin'?"

"Dying for a noble cause," Norrington drawled.

"I'm sure it was. You won't mind my noticin' that doesn't explain you bein' in my --um----dinghy. You're sure yer not a ghost? Because if you are, I really do not deserve t'be haunted by you. I didn't get you killed. Well, I was involved, I suppose, in a roundabout, innocent bystander sort of way."

Norrington took the rum and stared at it, blinking. He drank. It was warm, and he was warm, still feeling the water run down his neck, tickling and utterly unlike the chill he remembered last. "I am not in your company by my choice Sparrow, that much should be obvious."

"I gathered that. I was wondering why you didn't think t'bring a bottle." Jack was getting distracted, watching Norrington's pale face and wondering why these things always happened to him. Came of talking to fish.

Every scant hair on his body was still on end. Jack had never been gifted with a reanimation and that made it uncomfortably personal. "Seein' as yer here, you won't mind tradin' off at the tiller, will ya?"

"I hear trading with pirates is risky business." Norrington rose and shook himself. "But by all means. You are the captain of this…_dinghy_."

"It's got my flag on it." Jack retorted, butting past Norrington, fingers trailing over one pale wrist. Pale but warm. He wasn't some sea hant. Jack sank into the prow with a distinct sigh of relief. "Reconnaissance."

Norrington looked down at his wrist, then at Sparrow. "So it would seem," he murmured, his hand resting on the tiller, which the pirate had tied off before. "Quite telling, that you would put your banner on this rather than a proper ship."

"It's part of a proper ship! " Jack sniffed. "I suppose you'll be lookin' fer a berth of some sort when we make shore. Lots of opportunities for pirate hunters with such a remarkable resume," he sneered.

Jack toed the rum towards Norrington. He jingled forward, his eyes betwitching. "Listen, mate. You're gonna need work of some sort, if only t'get back whereever you wanna get to. I need a helpin' hand. Now, technically of course, we should postpone such negotiations until we're ashore over a proper mug, but technically things aren't quite ordinary. Do we have an accord?"

His fingers twitched out towards Norrington's pale hand. "Pirate hunters must be in great demand."

"You misunderstand, Sparrow. Pirate hunters are not a particular type of pirate. They hunt them."

"Like prey, like predator, Admiralodore. Wotever. I get so confused wif Navy titles." Jack's foot tapped restlessly. "I imagine a man like you would want t'make good use of his time. Duty an all that."

Norrington raised one eyebrow. "You cannot remember my title, but you claim to understand my intentions?"

"Intentions? Wot intentions? I don't have intentions!" Jack blustered then stopped and chuckled. "Did you want me t'have intentions? " He fidgeted. "Listen luv. You help me get this tub ashore, aye? Then we'll get you hunting pirates again, present company and all intentions excluded." His smile was dazzling.

"Why would you wish to hunt...." Norrington looked up sharply, glanced at the tiny dinghy, its proud flag, and laughed. "You lost your ship _again_?"

Jack groaned. "I did _not_. Much. I mislaid her." Norrington was _his_ jar of dirt and Jack was not going to lose his advantage by being carelessly honest. Or dishonest. Depending on the wind.

Norrington leaned down to take the proffered bottle, raising it in a toast. "Things that never change. The worst pirate I ever heard of."

Jack scowled. "There were circumstances beyond my control." Suddenly, he grinned like a death's head, his black eyes utterly mad. "If I have to steal back my ship from a recently resurrected pirate, I can have an equally---" his nose wrinkled, "undead pirate hunter t'help me do it. Wot have ya got t'lose?"

"To lose? Considering I am here with you, have once again lost my position, my integrity and apparently my life, I would say that leaves only my sanity." Norrington laughed darkly and looked up, a glint in his eyes. There was the wind in his face, and the water trickling down his hand, just lightly cold, and he pressed his eyes shut against the sudden burn.

Jack heaved himself forward, too close. "Sanity is vastly overrated, James. But it's worth the salt in yer face again, innit? "

Norrington smiled and felt his windblown strands tickle the back of his neck. "Would you be saying you need my help to get your ship back, Dinghy-Captain Jack Sparrow?"

Jack's moustache quivered. "I wouldn't say no, Mr. Norrington. " He sighed, exasperated. "Let's just get ashore. Here." He handed over the bucket.

Norrington straightened, shrugged off his coat and laughed hoarsely. "We are in the same boat, Sparrow, just in case that had escaped your attention. Literally." Their hands touched as he took the bucket. As good as any handshake.

"Done!" Jack looked up at the spangled sky. Exactly how a freshly undead Norrington was going to help him get his Pearl back was unclear. Nor was it clear that Norrington was going to approve of charts leading to parts unknown. It was perilously close to shanghai'ing, even with a broad interpretation of the Code, but first things first.

"I think this is gonna be the start of..." He cocked his head to one side. "A beautiful somethin'....worship, hardship, midships...oh yes. Friendship."

Norrington raised one eyebrow and emptied the bucket over Sparrow's head. "Yes, I had noticed an alarming amount of rum was gone."

[Ch.2](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/168728.html#cutid1)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continues immediately from [CH 1 And a Bucket of Rum](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/168113.html#cutid1). The problem with important gifts is they are...well, important.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
chipper  
---|---  
**Current music:** | AWE soundtrack  
**Entry tags:** |  [fiction](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/tag/fiction)  
  
_**FIC: NEVER SAY DIE Ch. 2: Rum Responsibilities**_  
AUTHORS: [](http://elessil.livejournal.com/profile)[**elessil**](http://elessil.livejournal.com/) and [](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/profile)[**hippediva**](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/)  
DISCLAIMER: Rodent owns, we pilfer  
PAIRING: Sparrow/Norrington  
RATING: PG

SUMMARY: Continues immediately from [CH 1 And a Bucket of Rum](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/168113.html#cutid1). The problem with important gifts is they are...well, important.

SPOILERS FOR AWE!

[CH 1: And a Bucket of Rum](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/168113.html#cutid1).

Ten minutes had passed, and Sparrow was still scowling from under his mat of hair like a drowned rat. For once, he was silent. For once, Norrington wanted him to talk. "Why am I here?" he repeated.

The black eyes glowered. Jack supposed he probably should tell Norrington something but he was too busy indulging in a full-fledged sulk. His lips pushed out, moustache bristling, he lounged over the tiller while the lamp swayed and the toothpick mast creaked.

"So if I want silence, I only need to douse you? Two birds with one stone. Silence, and miniscule aid against your stink." Norrington shuffled idly, pouring half a bucket of mudded water overboard.

Jack shuddered a little as he realised how easily his fist had curled around his cutlass. His sulk grew blacker: at least the jar of dirt had been quiet. But then again, jars of dirt weren't much company. And Jack wanted company. He'd had enough of his own for a time.

Norrington heaved a sigh and grabbed the bottle, sloshing the meagre remainders absently. Sparrow's eyes fixed on it sharply and Norrington gripped the neck tighter. "Why am I here?"

Jack twitched. "My boat, my rum." He stared at Norrington's face, chiselled by shadows, ominously illuminated by the lamp's uncomfortably red glow. He twitched again. "How should I know why yer here? Not at peace, that's my guess." His gaze returned to the rum.

"And so I seek out _you_ of all men to find peace? That is priceless." Norrington's eyes narrowed and he pulled the rum closer to his chest. "You have something to do with this, just as with every mess in my life."

Sparrow fumed. "Mate, I cannot be held responsible if you got a flea in yer ear an' went to almost-incredible lengths t'kill me. "

"The flea most certainly came from your infested mop." The plop as Norrington tugged the cork out with his teeth echoed over the waves.

Jack's mouth watered and he stamped one foot. "Sticks an' stones again? Commodore, I thought you were smarter than that. I was rootin' fer you, y'know. " He tried his most ingratiating smile and it glittered weirdly as the sail flapped. "Trim that line, sailor!" His sudden cry raised Norrington's hackles. "Why?" Jack complained at himself. "Why not? It'll go right any second." he retorted. He blinked and cleared his throat. "WOT?"

Norrington recoiled, then straightened and arched an eyebrow. "No more rum for you."

Sparrow made a face at him. "Norrington, bein' a responsible person occasionally, and the occasion being now, I can responsibly say that while I may have something t'do wif it, I never requested it and I declare m'self utterly free of any responsibilities responsible.". His black eyes glittered. "Wot I do know is that this is my ship--boat--dinghy and yer drinkin' my rum."

"Responsibility is far too strong a word, great Captain. You just admitted to having something to do with it. I can only presume you know." Norrington's eyes glinted. "Besides, if you dub yourself my captain, that makes me your crew; and as such I have a right to my share of the rum rations. Of course, I would be more than willing to give them up to my...respectable...captain, if he would only answer one question."

Jack grimaced at the word 'respectable'. Some inner delicacy kept him from mentioning the obvious to Norrington, a nagging and most annoying feeling that he was responsible. That made his britches itch and he fidgeted. "Wot?"

"Why. Am. I. Here?"

Sparrow huffed. "So I can find the Pearl. There. Simple, really. Not a terrible great story. Just that." He beamed.

"That, Sparrow, is babble, and not an answer."

The itch was insistent, then it was a sharp poke. Jack bounded up with a howl and seemed to charge at Norrington over the bucket, fists flying. He bellowed and scrabbled, fighting to get at the agonising pinch in a rather tender place.

Norrington's eyes widened and he raised both arms. Sparrow's fist hit his chest feebly and he jumped to his feet. Did the wretched pirate think he could take him in a fistfight, and that after Tortuga? His fist connected with Sparrow's shoulder and sent him rolling.

Jack shrieked and twisted, kicking wildly, one hand stuck in his pocket. "GODDAMN! LET GO!" he screamed, his elbow catching Norrington in the solar plexus.

With a hissed huff of breath, Norrington grabbed Sparrow and rolled him around, pinning him down. Jack's knee hit him in the stomach and he groaned as his back hit the edge of the boat.

Jack's right arm flailed, fist clenched around the crab, attached firmly to his forefinger. He hollered and kicked again, sliding into the hull. The little craft teetered past any sensible lie to and started to fill.

Norrington shouted and pushed himself away from the boat, grabbing Sparrow and jerking him away before the dinghy capsized with a creaking moan.

Jack shrieked, climbing up Norrington, his fist high over the waves. "Keep it dry! DRY! DAMN!!"

_ And if help drown you, Tia will be free too_....Jack floundered in black waters.

"OW, Let go of my hair, Sparrow! SPARROW; damn you, help me get the boat upright!"

Norrington's hands were on his head, his shoulders, the inky waves up to his wrist. "NOOOOO," he gurgled, sucking in seawater. He started to choke. There was laughter behind the roaring in his ears.

Norrington struggled and swallowed a mouthful of seawater, coughing, "Sparrow, stop kicking!" He hauled them both against the boat's keel, gasping for breath. "Don't tell me you cannot swim."

"CRAB! Th' crab. Dry!" was the unhelpful response, barely intelligible between coughs.

"Have you hit your head?" Norrington hissed, clinging to the barnacled keel with one hand, holding a struggling Sparrow by the collar with the other. He fought to see whatever trinket Jack was juggling wildly, forgetting to swim or even try to keep his head above water.

With a lunge, he pushed himself a stroke away from the dinghy and grabbed at a bit of glass floating by, glinting in the moonlight. It was the bottle. Snarling, he was back at Sparrow's side and grabbed the crab, stuffing it into the bottle and corking it. "There!" he hissed, "Now swim and help me right the boat!"

"ACCKKK!" Jack kept trying to talk and coughing up seawater. It was dark but the blackness clouding his vision was darker. He was staring down into a pinpoint of light that shifted and grew, then suddenly blinked out. "Boat?" He grabbed hold of a floating line. "Is it safe? Give it t'me." Bottle safely stowed, bulging under his coat, he swam to Norrington. "Ready?"

"Aye," Norrington took a deep breath and dove under, pushing against the tiny boat. It gave, and he could feel the tiny currents of Sparrow struggling next to him, but every time they pushed, it sank back down again. Finally, he surfaced, gasping for air. Only a second later, Sparrow emerged next to him. "The sail," he gasped.

Jack nodded and dove back under, heaving at handfuls of canvas and wondering how one small sail could suddenly seem like a full rig. Norrington's hand met his and together, they bobbed up and down, grabbing air and fighting to make it fast.

The halyard slung around the mast, a giant snake that forced their breath away just as the sea did. They splashed to the surface and nodded once more, diving under to push and heave at their only possible salvation.

Groaning, it fought to keep them down, finally sucking itself free. In tandem, they got it upright, the mast wobbling violently. Jack crawled to find the bucket, tied to one of the lines, and began to bail.

Norrington sloshed through the water, feebly fighting with his hands and watching it slide through his fingers effortlessly. He bent and yanked his boot off, shovelling water with it.

Slowly, they bobbed a little higher and higher until the bucket was scraping the keel. Backs and shoulders aching, both collapsed into the bottom of the fragile boat, exhausted. Jack's breathing was hoarse. "Nice boots, James."

The last bit of water in it was sloshed overboard, and Norrington pulled his boot back on, coughing out a sharp laugh. "Nice bucket, Jack."

Jack sniggered and dug around in his coat and shirt to pull the bottle free. He eyed the scant inch of amber liquid and the small talisman, sunk in its depths. His nose twitched and he looked eastward. "Sun's rising. We'll be dry enough soon."

Norrington grimaced down at his bright yellow waistcoat, then at the depths. "I never liked that coat, anyway."

"I'm glad t'hear you say that, luv. I never liked it on you. If I had seen it on you, I wouldn't have liked it. I mean if I saw it on you wifout bein' drippin' wet an' lookin like sumpthin' th' cat dragged in, mate." Jack fussed the cork out of the rum bottle and took a longing sniff.

"I take it back. If you didn't like it, it must have had some merit."

Jack suddenly sat bolt upright, then grinned to himself and checked his coat again for the chart. Really, it was too difficult to keep track of things he couldn't attach to himself bodily. He decided that he deserved a drink and tipped the bottle back.

He bellowed and kicked again, madly.

Norrington lounged back and shook his head. "I will not fight anymore. I don't want to end up naked on a boat with you."

"GE' IT UFF!" Jack clawed at the crab attached to his tongue. "UFFFFF!"

After displaying quite an interesting form of early morning stretches and making the most ungodly sounds, Jack got the small thing off of his person and safely back in the bottle. He corked it with a smack and glared at James. "Is yur fawt."

The tiny boat was shaking with Norrington's laughter as he watched Sparrow's swollen tongue wag between the pouting lips. "I gladly take the blame."

"Iss not fuddy. Ruint da rum. Ow!" Jack was shivering in the morning chill, his face growing more distinct with each passing minute. It was also getting longer. He sulked at Norrington, his tongue throbbing. "Bludy hurs."

Norrington grinned brightly, watching Sparrow's eyes go even darker. With a sigh, he reached into the single pocket of his waistcoat, cleverly sewn to conceal the contents. His fingers touched cool metal, and indeed, it was still there. His flask. A trial for himself, a reminder how close the abyss lurked.

He closed his hand around it and pulled it out. With a sigh, he threw it at Sparrow. What irony, to see the gleam of joy in his eyes. "This one won't bite. Just burn."

Jack stared at it, then back at Norrington. _A rumpot wot takes orders from pirates?_ No, the flask was was full. A testament to some kind of inner strength? His tongue gave another sharp throb and he nodded. "Fanks." It burned like all hell but it helped.

He toyed with it for a moment, then took another swallow and handed it back to Norrington. "Thank you."

Norrington screwed it shut and pocketed it. Thoughtfully, he eyed the bottle, now empty save for the tiny silver crab bobbing around in its last golden drops. "Now, I realise why I could be fond of the little thing the way it torments you, but why would you be?"

"Long story. Sentimental attachment. Consider it a shipboard priority." Jack grabbed the bottle and secured it against the side, then stood to check the sodden sail and busied himself with it for a moment. When he looked back at Norrington, the poor sod was shivering. "Sorry 'bout yer coat, luv."

Norrington's head jerked up, then he stood and helped to untangle the sail, silent for as long as it took them. "There are upsides to not wearing it anymore," he murmured.

Jack nodded with a jingle, his face very close to James'. His eyes were momentarily ink-dark and serious. "Inescapably. It wouldn't get you much employment anymore."

Norrington let go of the line he had gripped and stared at Jack. "Beckett? He is dead?"

"Aye. Along wif a great many more." Jack sat down with a thud. "It's over, James. He's gone an' his whole bloody armada sunk or deserted at Shipwreck Cove. Pity you missed it, mate. Lot of fun." He winked hopefully: Norrington looked incredibly lost and it put Jack right off the rum.

"I wager it was," Norrington whispered in a monotone, his nails digging into stiff and cold hemp to contain a shudder. "Elizabeth. Is she...? Did they...?"

Jack's eyebrow quirked. "Mrs. Turner is quite alive an' well. Her husband is..." Jack looked past Norrington at the dawn sky, midnight giving way to gold. "At sea."

Not the happiest story Jack could tell. He watched Norrington's face twitch.

"Thank god she is alive." Norrington laughed softly, closing his eyes. One deed that had not lost its purpose along the way, one sacrifice that had not been thrown before the wrong god. "Mrs. Turner?"

Sparrow sniffed and pouted. "It was quite th' weddin', apparently. I wasn't privileged to be present, having been traded off fer the groom."

Norrington brightened and his lips quirked involuntarily. "Yes. That sounds like her. And Jones?"

"Jones is dead." Jack's voice was flat.

"But who...?" Norrington could feel his own heartbeat, and remembered Jack's from before, harsh against his chest as they had fought waves and each other.

"Who's captaining the Dutchman? That would be Mr. Turner these days." He sighed and bit his lip. That had been hard. Hard to watch, hard to do. To hold immortality in his hand and wrap Will's dying fingers around his own broken cutlass. Living forever with that death on whatever mustard seed Jack Sparrow called a conscience? He shook his head to clear it. He had other plans and those plans evidently included the tall man whose green eyes were still sunk deep into his face. "You look scuppered, mate."

Norrington started, one hand hovering over the empty sheath that once had held his sword. "How long was I....how quickly did all this happen?"

Jack scratched his head. "I'm not sure o' that m'self. Felt like years. All sorts of bloody weird weather, too. One minute we're all bristlin' fer a fight off th' Cove, then there was a huge maelstrom and an awful lot of unpleasantness. Then we were back here. Anyways, it was a half-day's sail from Tortuga. That was Thursday..." Jack counted backwards on his fingers. "I'm not convinced of this, mind you, but I think a day or two."

Norrington swallowed. One day, and the world could change. One day, if one stepped forward and acted. "Turner is on the Dutchman now?" His voice shook. "You said Elizabeth was well."

"Aye, she's well. Probably havin' a nice long lie-down. I must say, luv, I am impressed that you were so quick t'take heed of my dubious truth an' run wif it, heart in hand, as it were." He chuckled. "I gather things with the ole Company weren't so rosy. An' you must have had the chance t'get personally acquainted wif Jones. Funny ole world, innit?"

Norrington reached up, one pale hand hovering over his chest, the other still on his swordbelt. How he had longed to receive it back, only to feel soiled by its bright gleam when he did. "Not only pirates are relieved when a tyrant dies." His whisper was soft.

Jack grinned at him. "We've got sumpthin' in common, mate."

Norrington grimaced. "Do not remind me." With a little shudder, he rubbed a tiny salt crust from his hair. It broke off and he breathed a sigh. "But if Turner is the new captain of the Dutchman, is he not...afflicted?"

"No luv. He's a good boy, he is, an' he'll do the job right. James, luv. Don't you know? The Captain of the Dutchman plays Charon to those lost at sea. Jones turned it all upside down, so we had t'make it upside upside down an' it was quite topsy-turvy. But you an' me, luv. We both got stabbed in th' back by Bootstrap Bill." Jack laughed long and loud. "Lizzie told me. I guess he decided t'act before th' mutiny this time. Damned funny, it is! Anyway, yer here an' we've got to find my ship! Any other news I can catch ya up on?"

"You spoke of the dead. Who survived? There were so many on the Endeavour." So many he'd known, so many that had followed the Navy into its red-blue-yellow doom.

"I dunno. The two idiots, they survived."

Jack had already shaken off his moment of memory and was intent on his new venture. "James, that's all done. Over, finished. Them wot survived, survived. Them as didn't, I really don't know. All I know is that my Pearl is gone and I'm gettin' her back." He remembered to take a breath.

"Sounds as if at least one of us has a plan," Norrington flashed a lopsided grin, taking a shuddery breath of sea air as the sun climbed above the horizon. "How long until we make port, Captain?"

Sparrow peered into the rose gold morning sun and stretched. "Another two hours, we'll sight the Keys. Soon." He blinked for a few moments and looked back at Norrington. "Get a bit of rest, mate. The sea's not gonna stay mad at me on a bright sunny day. Is she?" He listened, his head cocked to one side.

Softly, on the fresh breeze he could hear _her_, faintly. "Yo ho, dey pirates have de rum, yo ho."

He snickered and tossed his coat across the little boat. "Here. Get some sleep."

Norrington held it up and blinked curiously. "You don't have to steal the flask while I sleep. You can have it."

Jack caught it with a look of pleased surprise. "Thanks very much, mate."

Norrington snorted and curled himself into the narrow dinghy's damp bottom and the warmth of Sparrow's coat. His eyelids fluttered, but the rhythm of the sea against his ears lulled him to sleep.

Jack listened to his faint snores and stared into the sun. "Well, if this ain't just the sillest barrel o' pickles I've ever been in! Sun's bright." He sniffed. Land. Closer than he'd thought. He set to weaving the little craft on a river of light, heading east with the wind and promised himself a rummy good breakfast when he found something resembling a port.

The sea spilled a drunken giggle into the breeze and he let the current speed them on, his black flag flapping like a beating wing.

[Ch. 3](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/169542.html)


	3. FIC: NEVER SAY DIE  Ch. 3: Viejo Maracombe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piracy is easy, with the right incentive...or none at all.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
cheerful  
---|---  
**Current music:** | silence  
**Entry tags:** |  [fiction](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/tag/fiction)  
  
_**FIC: NEVER SAY DIE Ch. 3: Viejo Maracombe**_  
AUTHORS: [](http://elessil.livejournal.com/profile)[**elessil**](http://elessil.livejournal.com/) and [](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/profile)[**hippediva**](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/)  
DISCLAIMER: The Rodent owns 'em, we're borrowing without permission  
PAIRING: Sparrow/Norrington, Gibbs  
RATING: PG

SPOILERS FOR AWE!

SUMMARY: Piracy is easy, with the right incentive...or none at all.

Our heartfelt thanks to [](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/profile)[**smtfhw**](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/) for her excellent and lightning-fast beta

  
[Ch. 2](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/168728.html#cutid1)

Norrington started awake when the sun was high in the sky and the smell of land was stronger than that of Sparrow's coat. With a shudder, he sat up. Better to wake to a human face than one of the damned, even if it was Sparrow. Even if it was Sparrow, mouth open and snoring, a bit twine wrapped around his toe, one finger and the tiller, tied together in some insane contraption.

Had he sunk even lower now, to be _grateful_ for Sparrow as a companion?

Sometimes, rum was better than tea.

The coat rustled and he glanced at it, at the bulge revealing an inner pocket.. Something was inside, softer than wood, harder than paper. He pulled it out, unrolling the tiny segments. He'd seen this material, down in the East when he'd sailed bound for redemption and returned to hell. The paintings were dark and the bamboo glared in the sun, the circles on it shifting. A chart?

A low noise behind him cut through the air and he flinched. Sparrow stretched and smacked his lips, his toe tugging at the tiller and pulling them off course. Norrington quickly stuffed the map back into the coat.

Jack snorted himself awake and automatically adjusted their course, then dozed momentarily before both black eyes snapped open and he stared at Norrington blankly.

He'd been dreaming of salt beaches, stretching for an eternity on a pitiless shore, where there was no sound except the scrape of his boots. He took a deep breath. Norrington? How in hell? Jack's mind played hopscotch for a second or two. "Mornin'."

Norrington's lips quirked into a brief smile. "Good morning." He felt the urge to laugh. Quite the way to wake the first time after his death.

Jack disentangled his big toe from the line and pulled his boot back on, stretching and cracking every vertebra in the process. His answering grin was cheerful. "You look a bit refreshed. We're heading to Viejo Maracombe. Shouldn't take too long, now." He shifted to splash a bit of seawater on his face, by way of a morning wash, and promptly fetched a mirror out of his bottomless coat pocket.

Norrington grimaced. "I suppose hoping for you to ever make port anywhere respectable is in vain?" He stalked across the tiny boat, grabbed the bucket and poured the slop overboard.

With a crooked smirk, he unbuttoned his waistcoat. "Better I sink this now, lest I want to sink along with it."

"Any port in a storm, mate. We've no more rum and precious little water." Jack watched the vivid yellow darken and crumple beneath the waves and he could not be sorry to see it disappear. "Wise man! No one would wear that colour of their own bloody volition anyway."

He tossed the water skin, still lashed to the mast, at James.

"There was a hole in it. Terribly unfashionable." The forced laughter barely sufficed to contain Norrington's shudder, and he tipped the skin back, cool water dribbling over his lips. "Why am I not surprised you did not bring any victuals but rum?"

"How far d'ya think I could get in this?" Jack was characteristically mum on explanations of how he knew the currents well enough to guide them with his big toe. "There'll be plenty of food once we're ashore." He eyed his brave black flag and regretfully took it from the mast.

As reverently as a priest with holy things, he folded it and stuffed it in his coat, reemerging with a small vial. For the next five minutes, he was thoroughly occupied fixing his eyepaint.

Norrington's only comment was an arched eyebrow. "Incapable of deciding whether to arrive as the legend, or incognito, Sparrow?"

"Less known'll keep you alive hereabouts." Jack's voice was light but his eyes, startlingly black, were hard. "This isn't Port Royal, luv. An' even if it were, why should I alert anyone to my presence?"

The sun beat down on them as they hugged the shoals and Jack made a game of weaving around the islets until they could see the larger island looming ahead. It did not look very promising to James.

He stretched and as they approached a smaller inlet, perfect for mooring, a little removed from the shabby docks, he wordlessly and without a command, reefed the mainsail, then, finally, jumped overboard to push the tiny dinghy onto the filthy sand.

Sparrow, meanwhile, dithered with his 'effects' and eyed the rum bottle. It was still empty except for the tiny silver crab. He scowled. Best to leave it corked up in there. He got wet much too often to tie it into his hair. He sniffed. Such a damned bother.

He hopped into the surf to help James settle the little boat and stood stock-still, staring at the gaping hole in the back of Norrington's shirt, ragged and bloodstained. His eyes grew wide and he swallowed back a rush of bile.

He shuddered and looked elsewhere. "Take the water skin. Think we've got ev'rythin' else." Jack knotted a quick sling around the rum bottle and hauled it over his shoulder. He promised himself he would find something less bulky to safeguard it later.

Norrington nodded, without a word, tying the waterskin onto his belt, next to the empty sheath. "My last shoreleave was some time ago, but I believe one receives bottles and tankards in taverns, and need not bring one's own."

He'd noticed Sparrow's shudder but had little inclination to speak of it, feeling the itch of dried blood far too well.

"Aye, but it never hurts t'have somethin' t' sling around in a fight." Jack swallowed again at the matching hole in James' shirtfront. "An' you need some new togs."

"Sea creatures. You know how they are, poking and pinching where they can."

Jack's eyes narrowed but he said nothing as they started up the beach. He could swear he heard someone calling his name, but that was absolutely no guarantee he wasn't just hearing things again. He shook his head so hard it jangled.

"JAAACCCK! JAAAAAAAAAAACK!"

"Do you hear that?"

"No, Sparrow, I hang onto your every word, so I am utterly deaf to the rest of the world," Norrington drawled. "Of course I hear it."

"Oh good."

"SPARROW, YA CRAZY BILGERAT!"

Jack looked around, startled. "So much for anonymity."

At the end of the beach, a lone figure was waving its arms like a pinwheel. Instinctively, Jack paused, then trudged through the sand behind James.

"Very wise. Everyone who hates you will at least have an inkling of sympathy for me. Or at least pity." Norrington kicked up a bit of sand. "So, should we meet this admirer of yours, or run?"

Jack stopped and held up one finger. "Wind's fair. I say we meet 'im. Mebbe he'll buy us a drink."

The figure was running towards them, getting more portly with every step. Jack squinted, then grinned and whooped, scaring James out of his wits.

"AHOY! GIBBSY!"

Norrington delicately cleared his throat when the babble about sea turtles and porcupines became too much to bear. "Good day, Mr. Gibbs."

Joshamee stopped mid-turtle and stared up at his former commander with an expression that wavered between outright disbelief and a bellyache. "A-Ad-Admiral Norrington?"

Norrington snorted. "Not anymore."

"He's switched sides too. "

Gibbs looked confused. "Yer not Norrington anymore?"

Jack rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I believe I have not yet been disinherited, although my company would certainly warrant it." Norrington cast a sidelong glance at Jack and stretched out his hand. "Good to see you, I suppose."

Gibbs fidgeted and wiped his grimy hand on his equally filthy breeches before shaking Norrington's hand. "How in blazes...?" He looked to Jack for an answer.

"Sea turtles, Josh. Lots of 'em." Jack grinned.

"Good to see you, sir! Very fine indeed! We was all..." Jack elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ahem... yes, well, Cap'n. Wot orders?"

Jack looked at the lone tavern, sagging near a cluster of ramshackle huts. "Rum, of course. Ran out. An' James here needs some clothes." Jack leaned close to Gibbs' ear. "Don't mention the hole in 'is shirt. Bad luck."

Gibbs spat into the wind and turned three times.

Jack ducked the flying spittle.

Norrington cleared his throat once more. Touching, really, all the pirates' reactions to his death. He grimaced and hoped Gibbs hadn't spoken a rousing eulogy after a bottle or two. "And a ship, I would suggest."

"Aye, we need a ship. Wot's in port, Gibbs?"

Joshamee pointed into the cove. Besides Jack's dinghy, there were a few sad fishing boats, a ramshackle pair of ketches fit only for a wrecking yard. Then Jack's eyes brightened.

Moored almost at the furthest end of the cove was a small sloop, a pretty little prize, her three headsails quivering in the wind.

A breeze teased past his ear, whispering, "She pretty boat for you. Take you far. _Hic._"

The smile that spread across his face was like a sunrise. "I knew ya couldn't stay mad at ole Jack."

"I can," Norrington drawled.

Gibbs looked at Norrington. Jack danced toward the path to the tavern. "I don't know 'bout you lads, but I need a drink. A REAALLY big one."

"Sparrow, I am not wearing that." Norrington scowled at the ragged shirt that reeked despite a recent wash.

"How 'bout this one?" Jack headed around the back of the tavern, plucking wash from a line as though picking flowers. He tossed a worn but almost-clean shirt at James.

"My thanks," James huffed, quickly exchanging it for his own. Thanking a pirate for stealing clothes. Resurrection was _not_ what it was made out to be.

Gibbs held up a lady's mantle.

Both Norrington and Jack glared. He grinned and hid it behind his back.

A thin leather waistcoat flapped in the air and slapped Sparrow with its coattails. James brightened. "I like that one."

Jack glanced right and left, then pulled it from the line. Gibbs was dancing around on one foot as a large fishwife filled the shack's doorway. "Cap'n!"

Jack grabbed James' arm and slipped behind another of the tumbling shacks with Gibbs huffing in pursuit. "C'mon! In the back."

James cowered next to Jack, then, as they heard more steps approaching, they bolted. "I really do not think holes in clothing are the latest fashion in London."

"You could start a fashion." Jack chortled, breezing them right through the tavern's back door.

The place was nearly empty. In fact, the town was nearly deserted and only two early drinkers were slumped at tables, amid overturned chairs and broken crockery. Jack flipped a coin to Gibbs, swayed to the cleanest table and stretched out on a bench where he could keep a weather eye on both doors. "Welcome t'Viejo Maracombe."

"I dread to say this, but it may be worse than Tortuga." James kicked the ruins of a chair aside and took a seat, glancing around the tavern. Calm now, perhaps, but he knew from unsavoury experience that the drinkers would come, and the brawls would start. "That would be the 7th circle, then."

Gibbs guzzled thoughtfully. "I knew a tavern by that name once. So d'you, Jack. Remember that wild little----"

Jack kicked him under the table, then leaned forward, his voice low. "Now all we need is a coat fer Jamie here an' that lovely little ship. How many she got aboard, Josh?"

Gibbs separated himself from his tankard to breathe. "Looked t'me like a baker's dozen. "

Jack sighed. "We're gonna need a distraction."

Gibbs' face screwed into a knot. "Tis a foul stroke o' luck the monkey ain't here."

"Bite yer bloody tongue!"

Gibbs drowned it in rum instead. "Pigs. Nothin's as distracting as a good ol' grunt."

"I'm afraid there aren't any Gardarene swine about, Josh. We could find sumpthin' to explode."

Gibbs nodded, his eyes gleaming. "We can grab all th' gunpowder and stack it into a huge mountain and..."

James cut in, dryly, "Night, drink and women. Unless these men are not sailors."

Jack arched a brow at Gibbs' startled look and grinned. "That makes things easy. Wot about a coat?" His practised eye raked over the fallen few, then wandered to the serving wench who tottered towards them under a tray of staggering proportions.

Gibbs rubbed his belly.

James spared a fleeting thought to the irony that this was the best company in which he'd taken a meal lately and snorted. He decided not too watch too closely how Gibbs' affinity for pigs affected his table manners.

"Ahhh, nothin' like a good sailor's stew. An' rum. Lots of rum." Jack's eyes met James' as they both delicately avoided watching the carnage on the table. "So we wait until dark. Josh, how many men you think we need?" He looked around the silent tavern ruefully.

"Jack, you could cap'n that little beauty on yer own."

"Not wifout sleepin' I can't."

"You could tie the wheel to your hair." Norrington suggested.

Gibbs belched a laugh. "Sorry. Sorry sir. "

Jack glared at them both. "Don't be ridiculous. An' DON'T call him sir!"

Norrington resisted the sudden urge to stick his tongue out and instead focused on his stew. "Three will be enough. But we will need supplies, and most of all, a heading."

"Got th' bearin's. Gibbs? GIBBS! How long you been here? Did they restock?"

Joshamee stared as if Jack had just asked him to divide 256,483 by 12,505 and a quarter on an abacus.

"Unless they are smuggling, they did. They're low in the water, and the crossjack is high. Whatever storage room they have is stuffed to the brim." James wrinkled his nose and flinched at the sound of breaking glass. "Care to share our bearings...Captain?"

Jack and Gibbs looked at each other and then at James. Both voices were sharp. "No."

James raised one eyebrow and hissed out a breath.

Gibbs went back to rooting in his trencher and Jack scowled. He rose from the table. "I need a breather. More rum!" he called on his way out the front door, as if coming in the back and relieving oneself in the front was the height of fine manners.

He skirted the dirt path around the side and used the time it took to piss eyeing the sloop. As James had noted, she lay low in the water, a faded banner licking the wind. Pretty little prize! Jack took a deep breath of sea air and fastened his buttons.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied something blue wavering along the path towards the tavern; a tall man, staggeringly drunk and clearly intent on continuing in that state. Jack picked up a piece of driftwood and ducked down to wait.

James dawdled over the last bite of stew, eyeing Gibbs, who had long finished, across the table. He bit his lip, shuffled his feet, sipped from his tankard, scraped at the remainders in the bowl, then, finally, spoke. "You know where we are going, Mr. Gibbs?"

Joshamee's face crinkled into a conspiratorial grin. "Well, sir, ya don't always know right off with Jack. Twas givin' up th' bearin's to Barbossa lost him the Pearl first time. He's not likely to make that mistake again."

"And I am not likely to make the mistake of following anyone blindly again," Norrington said quietly, then pushed back the chair and stood. "Excuse me."

"Aye sir!" Gibbs nearly bolted to his feet, old Navy discipline still second nature.

James hastened to the back door, taking a shuddery breath of the dusty afternoon air, heavy with the stench of piss and vomit. A shudder ran down his spine, and after relieving himself, he dawdled a moment before pushing through the back door.

He glanced around the tavern, at the few faces, beaten or drunk, malicious or lost, then at Sparrow and Gibbs. He stalked back to them.

"...an' I swear that filly kicked like mule! Oh hullo, James!" Jack held up the blue coat with a grin. It wasn't exactly clean or fashionable, but it had once boasted threescore buttons. ""I'm sorry it's not London-fresh, but it's th' best I could do."

"It's better than yours," James murmured, his voice low and he too distracted to bother with quips or questions regarding the coat's origin. He eyed Jack's coat, the barely noticeable bulge that hid the chart.

"I love this coat. Seen me through many a rough spot, eh Josh? Mr. GIBBS! " Jack sighed and pushed his bowl across the table. "Here. Stop scrapin' that bread around like a rasp!"

He stopped, staring at the table.

There was a peanut, a lone half a peanut right in front of him. His eyes grew enormous and glanced in every direction so many times they crossed.. "Peanut. My peanut." He looked shell-shocked.

James' eyes widened and he watched Jack's long, dirty fingers dance around the tiny nut, then, finally, grab it and stow it with the chart, only to nonchalantly return to the tankard.

Interesting.

Jack was quivering, every muscle tensed. "...peanut...my...." The shadow fell away from his eyes. "How long till dark?"

"A few hours. Longer if we wait until the nightwatch is good and properly drunk," James sighed and nodded in the direction of the snoring and grunting noises without looking too closely, "Or asleep."

Jack nodded, still twitching, and fell silent.

At the uncharacteristic silence, James looked up and huffed another sigh. "Unless you fall asleep first."

Jack shook himself. "Shouldn't."

James shrugged. "You might as well. I will keep watch."

Jack's eyes were circled with more than paint; they were practically sinking into his skull. "Are ya sure, James? Yer not gonna bolt on me?"

James snorted and glanced around the room. "To where?"

"True. Not a very prosperous place at first glance, is it?" He wriggled around on the bench. "I could use forty winks. Or eighty." His head drooped and he crashed, nose first into the table. "ow....peanut...."

He hauled himself upright, half asleep, shifting and wiggling until his head was pillowed against James' shoulder.

Norrington grimaced and sighed, settling himself against the cool brick wall. No use in a Captain who was not well rested, he told himself.

The hours ticked by slowly, while Gibbs snored and Jack snuggled in a ridiculous manner, much to his new crewman's discomfort.

Norrington eventually gave up on defending himself, relaxing in a half-doze, the only skill worth mentioning he had picked up in Tortuga. Finally, when the sun waned and the tavern filled itself, he nudged Sparrow awake.

"Huh wot? Twenty seven an' not a day older." Jack blinked and removed himself from James, yawning. "Oh that's much better. Josh." He poked at Gibbs across the table. "GIBBS!"

"I think we should get 'nother round and head out, lads." Jack's voice was raised enough for the innkeep to hear.

The rum arrived promptly and they drank, silent but for Gibbs' enormous yawns. James cleared his throat. "I was hoping you could charm some ladies with your purse, Captain, unless your behaviour was intended to invite me to make you sound like one."

Jack drew away, cautiously. "Why? Wot'd I do?"

"I am not quite certain I wish to be your crewman. I am certainly not your pillow."

Jack looked crestfallen, and a trifle hurt. He guzzled down the rest of his tankard and banged it on the table. "Let's go."

"I am not wearin' THAT!" Jack hissed, only his eyes visible in the dim lights near the dock. His beard wagged with outrage at the lady's petticoat James held out for him---a very _ large_ lady's petticoat. "Looks more like a bloody sail!"

Gibbs gulped from his flask and guffawed.

"Then how about how you _set_ sail and get us a ship?" James thrust a veil at him. "Night, drink and women. You agreed to the plan but neglected to specify what to wear. Now fulfill your part of the agreement and _hold still._" A growled sigh. "Speaking of setting sail, I still expect an answer as to where to."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Yer just doin' this t'make a fool o' me." He was going to say a 'monkey's uncle' but refused to even mention the little monster by species. He snatched the petticoat and pulled it over his head. It more than covered him, boots, coat, baldric, belts and all.

"Please. I don't need a petticoat for that," James drawled, hauling the laces at the back tight. "I certainly hope you find your way on the seas better than into a girdle."

"Been known t'find my way 'round both adequately. Stop pullin'! I can't breathe!" Jack snapped.

The veil, draped decoratively over his hat, fluttered in the night air and tickled Gibbs' nose. He felt the material with two fingers. "Very purty, Cap'n.

"Shut it!"

"It certainly is an improvement." James took a step back, surveyed his work and shook his head. He lifted the veil and took the hat, then resettled the veil on the untidy mane.

"Adequate. What an achievement, Captain."

Jack glowered at him. "Do NOT lose that hat or I'll eat yer nose!"

Rolling his eyes, James pressed it onto his head. "There. I am not as inclined as you to lose my head."

Gibbs, anxious to soothe his captain's feathers, nodded brightly. "Jack, don't fuss so, ya look grand."

Sparrow looked as though steam might just start pouring out of his ears. "You just go fer the next bugger who walks down that plank, aye?" He drew himself up to his full height, still having to crane his neck to face Norrington. "An' that's quite enough outta you! Just make sure no one aboard gives us a hard time."

Grumbling, he wrenched at the huge petticoat and peered from around the rotting timbers. Viejo Maracombe was nigh deserted this time of year when hurricanes were past and wreckers out of work.

James grabbed his arm and pulled him back, his eyes hard and serious, shadowed by the hat. "Jack. Where are we going?"

Jack turned, completely exasperated. "Straight t'hell. Awright, I confess, I lied. I'm the devil an' we're bound fer a fiery pit. Happy?"

James closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them, they were clear and unrelenting. " I will not sail under a captain with a secret agenda." The addition was barely audible, "Not again."

Jack groaned and retreated into the shadows, dragging James with him. "Mate, we're gettin' the Pearl. Remember?" He wondered if formerly dead people developed memory problems. He was having enough of them himself.

"James, I swear t'you, I know wot I'm doin'." Well, I think I do. He made another face.

"So did Beckett." James' voice was low.

"In case you hadn't noticed, I don't look anythin' like Beckett." Jack straightened, his chin up. "I'm much taller."

"Looks may be deceptive."

Jack listened to the wind, laughing at him, and bit his lip. He couldn't lose Norrington now. "James, I know wot Barbossa's after. I really do! I swear on me Pearl!" His black eyes were pools in the shadows, half-honest, half-scared. And altogether sincere.

James looked at him, huffed a sigh and held out his hand. "No innocent victims?"

"Not a one!" Jack's fingers danced into James' and closed. "I swear it."

James smirked. "Let us make you a captain again, then, Miss Sparrow."

Jack stifled an outraged snort. "Right. Gibbs, wait until I get 'em down here." He trundled towards the lamplight, tripping over the petticoat with every other step. James could not help but grin at the way he straightened, squared his shoulders, then minced into the light. " Yoo hoo! Hullo, boys!" he called in a rather ragged soprano.

Low laughter rumbled over the tiny sloop and three men appeared at the rail, showing gap-toothed grins. "Ahoy there, pretty!"

"Wanna come aboard?" one of them whooped.

"You crazy? Cap'n will gut ya if ya bring a woman aboard."

"Why don't you lads come down here?" Jack beckoned, the veil getting in his mouth. "C'mon my fine bucks! Which one o' you wants t'give Sweet Lucy a ride, eh?" Good God, I sound like Scarlett. He shuddered at the thought.

They hooted and whistled, ready to brawl over the chance. Finally, a quick throw of dice settled who would have to stay aboard. The bearded sailor grimaced. "Leave me somethin' for me turn, lads."

"Oh, I think there's sugar fer you all. Now come down here an' make a poor girl happy." He couldn't believe this was coming out of his own mouth.

As the two lucky crewman scrambled their way down the gang, James slowly pulled himself over the starboard rail.

"You rotten whore, I'll kill ya!" Gibbs bellowed, staggering around the dock to the great amusement of his 'sweetheart's' suitors. Jack fled a little ways, avidly pursued until the shadow of the ship loomed.

"Never mind that ole sot, luvvie." He beckoned again, pistol hidden in the voluminous folds of the petticoat. Gibbs advanced on the straggler, muttering imprecations.

James shuddered at the taste of iron in his mouth as he crept closer to the lone watch left on deck who was observing the events with cheers and lewd suggestions. A knife between his teeth, watching every step lest one of the planks creaked, he made his way. To steal a ship. Like a pirate. From a pirate. For a pirate. The damned waters simply were too infested with bloody pirates. How Beckett could ever have called them a dying breed was beyond him.

The hilt of his knife hit the sailor on the back of his head and he crumpled to the deck a bare second before Jack and Gibbs struck.

"Sweet Lucy" got her slobbering prey close enough, giggling and prancing until the rheumy eyes widened as the veil dropped away and Jack clubbed him with the pistol butt. "Never leave yer post fer a doxy, mate."

Gibbs wrestled the other into silence with one ham-fisted blow. "Jack?"

"Aye, truss 'em up." Together, they tied the two into a neat bundle and Jack wrenched off the petticoat and draped it over them like a skirt over a very lumpy hoop. He tore up the gang to the helm while Gibbs helped James dispose of the last watchman and loosen the mooring line. "Hurry up!" he hissed over the rail.

They quickly hoisted the triangular mizzen sail, and the moment it fluttered in the breeze, James jumped out, closely followed by Jack. Water to their knees, they pushed her out of her mooring until the waves caught and cradled her. The moment they climbed back aboard, she glided off into the darkness.

  
[Ch. 4](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/169885.html)


	4. FIC:  NEVER SAY DIE  Ch. 4:  Fair Winds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fine start to a new adventure yields some surprises. Our deepest thanks to [](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/profile)[**smtfhw**](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/) for her excellent and lightning-fast beta.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
bouncy  
---|---  
**Current music:** | silence  
**Entry tags:** |  [fiction](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/tag/fiction)  
  
_**FIC: NEVER SAY DIE Ch. 4: Fair Winds**_  
AUTHORS: [](http://elessil.livejournal.com/profile)[**elessil**](http://elessil.livejournal.com/) and [](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/profile)[**hippediva**](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/)  
CHARS: Sparrow/Norrington, Gibbs  
RATING: between PG-13 and a very minor R  
SPOILERS FOR AWE!

SUMMARY: A fine start to a new adventure yields some surprises. Our deepest thanks to [](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/profile)[**smtfhw**](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/) for her excellent and lightning-fast beta.

  
[Ch. 3](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/169542.html#cutid1)

Jack pranced around the aft of the small craft, fingers fluttering over the wheel, barking necessary orders and preening in the wind, the sting of the petticoat forgotten.

And a fine wind it was, speeding them at breakneck pace around the Keys and the coast, eastward to the Atlantic.

Jack tired of his latest pose and looked around slyly. James was aloft, giving them as much canvas as the small sloop could carry. When he closed his eyes, Jack could almost believe he was flying.

He opened them again and fumbled for his compass when there was a soft sound at his feet. He looked down and started.

Eyes shifting, he nudged the peanut with his toe. Another glance around and he swept it into his pocket and stood staring at the deck.

Why am I being followed by peanuts? I don't even like peanuts. Much prefer cashews. Or almonds. I like almonds...

There was a thump on the deck as James slid down the backstay from his perch on the crossjack. He glanced up and wandered over to haul it tighter, securing the sheet on the belaying pin. Then he leaned back against the bulwark, one eyebrow raised expectantly. "That should do for a while, if we keep on course. Which I could, of course, tell you, if I knew our course."

Jack started from his reverie with the taste of sugared almonds consuming his memory and the smell of peanuts interfering with it. Understandably irritated, his chin rose and he pointed vaguely east. "Thataway."

"Why yes, since those are our current bearings, I hoped we were heading that way." James idly turned a string of hemp between his fingers then glanced afore, where Gibbs was sprawling on the deck. "Permission to excuse myself, Captain," he drawled.

"While ye're up an' about, I could use a drop." Jack watched James stalk away and grimaced. Not very obligin' sort of fellow. His lip pushed out but his eyes had been following James aloft. Damned fine sailor. He cocked his head to one side, appraisingly. Damned fine....

He dragged his gaze from the naval posterior back to the horizon. No one lookin', might as well.

He opened the compass.

He smiled and gave the wheel a tug. Then he stared and shook it. Not _again_!

Curiously, it spun lazily between his original heading and just a little way from it, directly ahead. He snapped it shut and carefully opened it again.

Ahh. rum. Of course, the rum.

He returned his attention to the wind and their almost ungodly speed.

James brought him the bottle with a stilted bow and an insolent grin, then trudged fore to the bow.

Gibbs grunted a reply to his dream pig and snorted himself awake. He stretched and yawned, took a nip from his flask and peered at Jack, fumbling with his compass again. He took another nip.

James watched him from a few paces away, turning another bottle in his hands. Sparrow reacted to any questions about their course as he did to rum, taking them in without much reaction. Time for a change of plan.

He padded over to where Gibbs lay and settled himself on the deck. "We're making good speed."

Josh lumbered to his feet and made for the lee rail. "Dear God in Heaven! Is Jack mad? 'Tisn't natural! Bad luck!" He replaced whatever he'd just relieved himself of from his flask.

"Now, now. The Calpyso is a sleek and fast little beauty with a fine amount of canvas. I assure you, there are no sea turtles involved."

Gibbs flask hit the deck. "Don't mention her name! 'Tis the foulest of luck!" He scrabbled after it on all fours.

"It is bad luck mentioning the name of the ship one is sailing? That one is new, I believe." James held out the bottle.

Joshamee looked up from lapping at the spilled rum. "Wot did ya say?"

"Calypso. Portside astern. On her hull."

To James' eyes, it was most definitely a case of being between a fool and an idiot. Gibbs was twirling around in place and spraying the bow with spit. Some thirty five feet away, his captain was dancing at the wheel, compass in hand.

Gibbs leaned close, his breath a blast of rum. "Jack be headin' into the Devil's Triangle an' God help us when he finds it."

James' eyebrow twitched and he barely contained a smirk. "Seems God is not the one we have to worry about," he drawled casually, offering up the bottle and straightening just a bit, a captive audience.

"Mad as a hatter before he set foot in Davy Jones Locker an' now, he's hellbent on the Trials of Neptune where the Devil's water touches the sea." Gibbs' flask was not sufficient and he snatched the bottle, guzzling and making strange signs with his fingers.

It was evident that, as insane as Gibbs might consider Jack, he was inordinately proud of him.

James feigned a grab for the bottle, then left it to Gibbs. "Neptune's Trials? That's a tale to scare children," he snorted, watching the one ambition that Mr. Gibbs had come into play.

"Ahhh, you know the stories, then...those wild waters where ships disappear into fog so thick ya can't see yer fingers before yer face." Josh scared himself, waggling dirty fingers. "An' the sea itself churns against the currents an' winds blow sideways. Where compasses don't work an' the only thing 'tween a man an' the shores o' hell itself is the hope o' a quick an' painless death."

James listened with an eager ear, ignoring turtles and purple porpoises, only interjecting quiet questions or sounds of disbelief when he wanted more information. Finally, Mr. Gibbs' tale, and the bottle, were done, which apparently seemed to warrant another nap. Before the snoring could fade into grunting, James rose.

He stalked aft where Jack was alternatively guzzling from his bottle and cooing to the ship. "So, you intend to take us to the one place where your compass is equal to all others: broken?"

Jack's face didn't change, but his eyes slid sideways. "One man's broken is another's----fixed." he retorted. Very clever, Commodadmiral. Should bloody sew Gibbs' mouth shut wif a sail needle. "Wot of it? It's where we'll find th' Pearl."

Like a card player with a questionable hand, Jack peered once more at the compass. The needle drifted back and forth: east-so-east, then right in front of him. James moved a little ways off and the needle moved with him. Jack's eyebrow quirked.

I do NOT! I don't think I do? Do I? He watched it return to the course, stay there for a while, then slide again to James and back.

James' voice cut into his thoughts. "So it is. But how come I doubt that the chart in your coat denotes the Pearl's position?" Norrington was close, hovering just barely over the wheel, their hands almost touching.

"Ahhhh." Funny how the green eyes could look so hard and be so deceptive. Jack grinned. "How appallin'ly low of you t'be pryin', James. Very ill-mannered indeed. An' very clever." He suddenly snapped the compass closed. "Well, James, I was thinkin' that you should navigate. Wot say you t'that?"

There was an approving giggle in the wind, soft and just a bit drunk, cut short by James' derisive snort. "Now that I know our heading, despite your unwillingness to oblige me, I may as well do the work?"

"No, James, it's only your unwillingness t'take th' helm that's stoppin' you." Sparrow's eyes twinkled as he abruptly tied off the wheel and tugged James down to the deck. He unrolled the chart, spinning the segments with light touches, one dirty forefinger pointing. "There."

James' eyes widened as they followed the length of Jack's finger to the map, the delicate bamboo seeming to shift like waves. He leaned closer, the length of their arms aligning. "Impressive." A small thrill went through him, and something drew his own hand to trace the path to their destination. He looked up. "If you have the map, how do you know Barbossa will be there?"

"Ev'ry sailor alive knows the Devil's Water. He'll be there." Their foreheads nearly touched as they pored over the arcane bamboo. Jack's black eyes were bewitching. "Think of it, luv. In addition, of course, to our original agreement of you helpin' me get my ship."

He pulled back a little, watching Norrington's rapt expression with a wicked grin. "An' seein' as you've really nothin' much t'return to in Jamaica, I'd say new horizons would be most welcome, aye?" His dark face jangled closer, fingers tickling the air. "Think of it, James. Immortality. Not torn out of someone's chest but waitin' for ya, poured an' ready. Think of bravin' through fer that. Course, once we have th' Pearl, yer off yer accord an' free to go where ya like."

"How kind of you." James swallowed thickly. Oh, he'd thought of it, when Jones asked him whether he feared death. When he'd woken drifting in the water, his chest hale and whole except for a longing thrum. But eternity without a place to spend it was as frightening as a borderless limbo. As Jack had put it, there was little left in Jamaica. He'd sailed off under Beckett's command to hunt down ghosts; and then he had returned to a world full of them; ghosts of those he had failed, whose safety he'd thought to provide, and with that, safety for himself. The safety to do the right thing. Was that gone? Was it too late? Had Port Royal fallen into an anarchic mess? There was nothing he could do as one man, without the Navy, without the East India Company, for better or for worse.

But there was the grip on his heart as he looked at the map, a calling as soft and insistent as the sea. Immortality, to make him feel alive. He snorted and tore his eyes away from the chart to watch Jack's beard quiver. "Every sailor alive? That leaves just the question who of us three is," he snorted.

"Does it, luv?" Jack breathed in the wind, sure that he'd been right this time to share the bearings. "More than one way t'skin that cat. So yer in?" He put out his hand over the chart, his lips twitching into a smile.

"I'm already in over my head." Finally, James raised his head and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. If Barbossa was after immortality, that alone was reason enough to sail along. A crew of immortal pirates? He distinctly remembered the ramifications of that. Maybe he no longer had his rank, but he still knew his duty. Another chance to prove himself. His eyes gleamed as he took the outstretched hand.

"You in over your head too, Jack Sparrow. Far over. An' he taller than you." Another giggle drifted in the wind.

Jack grimaced. "I never know where I stand wif you, luv. Lovely wind, tho'."

"Sparrow, you are apparently too drunk to stand anywhere. You are sitting in the lee of the bulwark."

"Wasn't talkin' to---sorry." Jack rose and rolled up the chart. "I don't have any articles t'sign so let's just drink on it." He swayed like a snake. "An' I resent that!"

James shrugged. "And I resent you. So?" He plucked the bottle from Jack's hand and drank from it.

"Speakin' of resentin', I do believe that I've a greater claim to it. You havin' hanged me an' all, and then joinin' my crew an' bein' a mutineer. But----" the long fingers twisted and twitched. "that's all old news, innit? Don't matter now. So I resent th' implications that you consider it fair for you t'be resentin' me."

James smirked "Sparrow, do shut up. That was a lifetime ago. And you are still annoying me now."

Jack sulked as he turned his attention to the neck of the bottle, but his eyes twinkled again. "An' one lifetime is enough innit? I, personally, am very glad t'see you shakin' off the coils, as it were, backwards. I told you I was rootin' fer you!"

"Sparrow. I meant it. Do shut up." James' eyes shone as he took the bottle and emptied it.

"Norrington, ye've never been much of a sociable sort, have ya? Wot happened t'you? Trouble wif girls when you was a lad? Spots?" Jack asked brightly.

"Ah yes. I suppose trouble with girls would explain trouble with you."

"I beg your pardon! I have enough o' that, thank you very much an' I'm startin' t'resent yer implications again."

Moustache quivering, Jack betook himself below to nurse his wounded dignity in a private bottle. He did spend a few minutes really sulking and, for the first time, he missed the monkey. It was such a relief to shoot the creature.

  
Since Jack's dysfunctional compass was the only one aboard, James steered the Calypso by the stars winking in the darkening sky, humming a shanty to himself as the wind whipped his hair into his face.

It had been far too long since he'd last steered a ship himself, but soon he could feel the familiar rumbling of the waves through the wood in his hands, could hear the whisper of the wind in the sails above him. It was midnight before he called to Gibbs to relieve him.

The single cabin was narrow and stuffy, but there was a bunk with clean sheets and an actual mattress. He stretched out and was asleep before he could wonder where Sparrow had gone.

  
Jack had been lying propped up against the bulwark where he could watch the stars overhead, islands in the black heavens. He dreamed himself a ship among them, sails billowed with the dust of comets. He heard James' steps, Gibbs heavy tread, and waited until the skies wheeled and turned, Orion lost over the horizon. He slipped below like a shadow and crept towards the bunk, tripped over James' boot and fell into it.

James groaned unwillingly and hugged the blanket tighter. "Isn't there a hammock?"

"Mmmnnnnn" Jack shook his head, hauling the spare blanket over his shoulders and curling on one side. "Go back t'sleep."

James huffed a breath and curled closer to the wall. "Fine. Stop sprawling. And 'm still not your pillow."

"Bloody hell!" Jack snorted. "I wouldn't presume."

"We have an understanding." James' voice was low and drifted back into a soft snore.

Jack sprawled, rolled, turned, kicked and finally entangled himself in the blanket but by morning, he was snuggled against his bunkmate very comfortably. He even lay still for at least two minutes enjoying just how comfortable. Up, mate. Time an' tide. He reluctantly unglued his eyes.

He sat bolt upright, hitting his head. "OWW!"

There was a peanut on his pillow.

He was now wide awake and comfort became discomfort as he tried to sit in the low bunk while suffering the onset of a whole different sort of morning awakeness. He grabbed the peanut with a growl and crawled topside with a fading bulge in his breeches.

James stifled a laugh in his pillow but, when he nearly hit his own head, felt a twinge of sympathy. Only a minute later, he was topside, sniffing at the fresh sea air.

Gibbs was nodding at the wheel and Jack tiptoed up to him, intent on some mischief, when he stopped in his tracks and straightened.

There was no wind. None at all. He held up a finger, sucked on it, held it up again, then made a face.

The sea around the small ship was still as glass, liquid and frozen at once. Jack's lip curled and he looked at James with a smirk. "Mr. Gibbs? I was wonderin', if ya please, could you tell me exactly when the sea STOPPED?"

Gibbs sputtered and snorted. "Cap'n! Wot, sir, I was just--oh Jesus and the saints o' heaven! " He gladly backed away from the wheel.

Jack looked back at James. "Apparently, we have a problem." He squinted into the flat calm, sunlight beating off the water in blinding, shifting sheets. East-so-east, a dot wavered sending ripples through the still water. "Spyglass!"

Gibbs shuffled and James wordlessly took it from Jack's own pocket, holding it up.

A small sail, reddish in the golden light, became clearer, moving oddly, as if suddenly closer and then drifting further away. Jack blinked and squinted, then started as it loomed dead ahead: a fishing boat, nets overwhelming it, filled with eels that slithered in and out of the ropes, a moving mass bulging over its side. In it, a big woman sat, laughing up at them.

"You sail inta waters most fierce." She raised her straw hat, one pale eye staring in her dark face. "See to where you dream, Captain." In her hands, she wove a basket, the kind sold in the gullah markets, fine and fast. But her weaving changed patterns and swirled as she worked. "De Sea rings round the sacred well and three times breath regained. An' when dey hear da choir, dey find cold fire an' de winds turn round again." She cackled.

Jack looked down. "I don't suppose I could ask fer a critical elaboration on that?"

The milkwhite eye fixed on him. "You charm, Jack Sparrow. An' you tongue steal. You see!" Her laugher floated like the ripples of her faint wake as she held up the basket, turning it.

The patterns had become silhouettes, like so many James had seen in fine drawing rooms at home. Three profiles, indistinct, as if half-formed.

"You see far, Navigator. Remember dem eyes that see far miss up close, ehya?" she called over her shoulder as the little craft passed them on the millpond sea. It faded and winked and was gone.

Jack grinned in a wobbly fashion and waggled one hand. "Thanks, luv. Always appreciated. Gibbs, James, either of you happen t'know any heathen weather dances? Wind charms?"

"I hear tying the captain to the bowsprit as a figurehead works miracles," James drawled, his eyes still fixed on the empty sea. He wasn't sure he'd ever grow accustomed to the supernatural, no matter how insistently it chose to invade his life.

He felt a strand of hair tickle the back of his neck and jerked his head up to the tiny flag on the mainmast, raising itself lazily to flutter. "Seems the weather gods agree."

Jack hid his smile and peered overhead. "Seems yer right, luv." His hands flew about at the wheel. "Wot are ya waitin' fer? Go---navigate!" He was about to turn, then stopped and checked their bearing. He considered the results and suddenly tossed the compass to Norrington.

The faint breeze did nothing to dispel the eerie stillness around the little ship and Jack, with his golden grin, seemed a part of its weird allure.

"Tell me, James. Where are we goin'?"

James snapped the compass open and watched the needle quiver. "Hell. Which, according to your broken compass, seems to be starboard ahead."

Gibbs panted to the helm and held out a rope. "Are we still fer tyin' the Cap'n to the bowsprit? Beggin yer pardon, Jack."

James smirked.

Jack sniffed and looked down his nose at them. "Mr. Gibbs, may I remind you of something?"

Josh nodded expectantly.

"Cannibals. Mr. Norrington?" Jack's moustache quivered. "Keep us on course, eh?"

His mouth twitched into a smile. Then he turned, grabbed the rope from Gibbs with a shove and stomped into the bow to enjoy a bit of well-deserved lollygagging.

[ch. 5](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/170325.html)


	5. FIC:  NEVER SAY DIE  Ch. 5:  A Change in the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fast sail and faster sailors as the Devil's Water looms. Our sincere thanks to [](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/profile)[**smtfhw**](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/) for her excellent beta skills. SPOILERS FOR AWE!!!

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
cheerful  
---|---  
**Current music:** | quiet  
**Entry tags:** |  [fiction](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/tag/fiction)  
  
_**FIC: NEVER SAY DIE Ch. 5: A Change in the Wind**_  
AUTHORS: [](http://elessil.livejournal.com/profile)[**elessil**](http://elessil.livejournal.com/) and [](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/profile)[**hippediva**](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/)  
CHARS: Sparrow/Norrington, Gibbs  
RATING: NC-17

SUMMARY: A fast sail and faster sailors as the Devil's Water looms. Our sincere thanks to [](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/profile)[**smtfhw**](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/) for her excellent beta skills. SPOILERS FOR AWE!!!

[ch. 4](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/169885.html#cutid1)

  
Jack hauled himself up into the rigging and stopped to hang there, the wind rushing snippets of song in his ears. Clean and salt, its roar was swallowed by water and they mingled in a glorious chorus. He hummed a few notes and watched James at the wheel.

Well, well, who would've thought Norrington would be some kind of beacon? Or perhaps the lure of their venture was contagious. Jack didn't care, as long as the winds were fair and the sea kind.

He swung himself on the yard and laughed as Gibbs chased James from the wheel. He could just hear them below, voices melting into the cacophony of the wind.

"Now ya get some sleep, sir! Mr. Norrin'ton. I may be an old salt but I can still steer. Get yerself a bit o' rest, ye've been glued t' this spot all day."

James sighed and reluctantly let go of the spokes, trudging amidships to sit on the deck, where the wind, fine on the quarter, still tousled his hair. He looked up and called, " If you fall, Sparrow, do tell me, so that I may skewer you on my sword."

"I never fall--." He swung himself down quite impressively and was disappointed that Gibbs was too preoccupied to have noticed. "I land suddenly."

"You fell. Off the parapet," James drawled. His glance wandered from the sails, to Gibbs at the helm, the compass, back to the sails, then to the top of the mast and its tiny flag. "Wind has turned. We'll make better speed if we gybe."

Jack nodded, his eyes starting to sparkle eagerly. "Gibbs!"

"She's coming up!" James hollered, pushing himself to his feet. "Fine on starboard quarter!" Gibbs looked up, grinned broadly and turned the wheel, nudging the Calypso's stern through the wind.

The crossjack strained with the wind and James' arms quivered under the effort of holding the mainsheet. Jack's hands joined his on the hemp, and, laughing into the wind, they eased it about, bracing the crossjack round.

Jack wound it swiftly around the belayin' pin, fingers flying until they touched James' again, and he grinned. He could have sworn they'd been shouting at one another, yet not a word had passed between them. Just smiles. Jack only realised he was holding his breath when he hiccupped.

"Provin' t'yerself that I actually know wot I'm doin', luv?"

James looked up, their hands still touching on the belaying pin. He wrapped the sheet around it one more time. "I'd be most impressed, if you didn't forget the jib." Their shoulders aligned as he pushed past to rush forward.

Jack ran after him and once more, their hands met on the sheet. This time their eyes met, too, and Jack's face split into a laugh. "I haven't forgotten how t'gybe, luv. Catch hold."

It was both duel and delight as they bounded and heaved, skill and exhilaration speeding through once-stilled blood twice over.

The jibsheet was quickly belayed, and James felt the thrum of the waves and his blood as he leaned against the bulwark, eyes fixed on Jack, barely a hand's breadth away.

Black eyes alight, Jack was flying again, the wind singing to him as it rushed through his hair. He was enjoying himself much too much to notice anything but the way James' eyes danced like the sun on the sea. Almost the same colour, too, and not so dreadful stiff anymore.

The irony of thinking a formerly deceased individual stiff was not lost on him and he chuckled.

James dragged his gaze up the length of Jack's body, catching sight of a glint of teeth. He showed his own, just as his eyes flicked towards the hatch of the cabin.

Jack's gaze held his for a moment longer than necessary and he gave the briefest of nods. He headed below and waited the half-second for James to follow.

They shared another glance, another nod, before James pushed Jack towards the bunk, one hand on his shoulder, the other fumbling at the front of his breeches.

Jack had one hand working on James' buttons, the other slipping back to spring the backlace of his own breeches. They sank to his boottops and he laughed softly at James' gasp. Green eyes and hard hot flesh were a potent combination and Jack's hair jangled and clacked as he inched closer.

"More tackin', luv?"

"I'd say we're right on course." James' voice was a low rumble. His hand tensed on Jack's shoulder and he shoved, sending them both tumbling onto the bunk.

Jack's brain was burning up in a volcanic eruption of every dirty thought he'd ever entertained about Admiral Commodore Captain James Norrington since first laying eyes on him at sword's point. It was a considerable library.

Every breath tasted of their smell, close and sweaty, salty and free. James would have spared a laugh, but there were Jack's fingers, calloused and sure around him. He would have been appalled at tumbling with a pirate, but there was Jack's thigh, lean and tense, twitching as he thrust against it.

Jack grabbed at James' shoulder as they found some kind of pace, grinding and shoving against each other, belly to belly. James' fingers were bruising on his hip. The wind's roar filled his ears, the same song whispering as he bit back a growl and jerked violently.

James felt Jack's jaw press against his collarbone, felt the damp gasp against his skin. Another shudder, another wave, and he gasped a curse, head still bowed against Jack's neck.

Heat trickling down his leg, Jack glanced up and, as he did, James moved his head and their lips brushed.

James parted his, unthinking, leaning in for a taste. His hand slipped from Jack's shoulder up into his sweatdamp hair, grabbing hold.

Eyes round as saucers, Jack stared at the tip of James' nose, then melted. He did love kisses. Never could resist 'em, even if they had a regrettable habit of getting him slapped. He hoped this one didn't. It was quite delicious, if unorthodox in the midst of sailors' fumblings.

James' lips left his, for just a moment. He could feel the soft sigh before they caught his again; damp, a hint of teeth melting into tongues.

The need for breath parted them, and James' eyes snapped open. He almost whispered an apology, but instead just pressed his lips closed.

Jack dragged himself away, and for the second time since arriving back among the living, he was utterly speechless.

Bit o' slickleggin'? Nothin' unusual, lovely sail, blood all up. Understandable, really. But kisses? He fumbled with his breeches.

James shuffled to sit back on his heels, bowing his head. His lips tasted salty and he swallowed hard. So much for a clear course. He glanced around the cabin, anywhere but at the man under him in the bunk. Finally, he reached for a rag and cleaned himself, then handed it over wordlessly.

Jack took it and handed over his private rum bottle, the one he'd been siphoning into the crab's bottle a dram at a time. It was an opportune moment, of that Jack was certain. It was what kind of opportunity that was worrisome. He tossed the rag against the bulwark and smiled at the sunlight, streaming through the open hatch.

How ridiculous. I feel wonderful. He's gonna slap me, I know he will. But right now, I feel damned good. He grimaced.

James hastily buttoned his breeches, fighting back any lethargy. The narrow cabin smelled of them, impossibly heavy, every breath a reminder, every breath a suggestion they do it again. Right now. He took another deep breath and straightened. Fumblings were over the moment they were done, no mentioning, and most of all, no lingering. One lapse in protocol did not mean there had to be another. "I'll check our bearings." His voice was hoarse.

Jack's face crinkled into an irrepressible grin. "Aye." He took a long drink, watching under his lashes as James fled topside. "Think you already did, mate," he muttered.

From deep inside the bottle, stowed in its sling, there was a laugh. "You got no idea, pretty Jack. Be glad it were not da goat."

As James emerged from the hatch, the wind tousled his hair, hissed around his ears and underneath his shirt, wrestling the linen away from where it was glued to his skin with sweat. He took a deep breath, and the wind buffetted him, the sails above bellying hard and straining against the masthead.

He grimaced at the halyard, then the hatch, wondering if reefing was really necessary. Specifically, if it was really necessary to fetch Jack. His sweat had barely dried and he could still smell Sparrow on every breath.

An unpractised fumble, as though they were budding midshipmen incapable of controlling their urges. And still, it had been equal to the vivid thrill of their sail, had sped his heart and his blood as much, had made him feel _alive_ as much.

Sparrow was now probably busy laughing over a foolish ex-Admiral who was still green enough to consider kisses part of a shipboard's bargain on relief. He sighed.

So did the masthead, and he scowled at it, then the halyard, finally climbing below again. "Jack. We need to take in sail."

Jack had dawdled below, fingers pressed to his lips, his mind a curious blank. The moment he heard James call his name, he bounced to his feet with a grin and followed topside. The wind tore at his hair, sending trinkets carolling and the little ship's sails were bellied to bursting. Without a word, he climbed into the rigging.

It was the oddest wind he'd experienced in his lifetime on the seas; warm as a summer breeze and fresh as early dawn, but pushing them with the force of a squall. He worked swiftly, fingers flying as he inched his way along the yard.

James was next to him, perched precariously on the footropes, and together, they reefed the main course, hauling at the heavy canvas and securing it with the halyards, hands inevitably touching only to jerk away.

Below them, Gibbs was singing at the top of his lungs, scraps of song blowing into their ears. He grinned and tugged James' sleeve, pointing.

James leaned close. "Don't you dare think about joining in."

Jack just laughed. "Musichater!" He knew they should climb down but he didn't want to. He wanted to stay and look at the sea, turquoise frothed with whitecaps like lacy festoons on a silken gown. He didn't want to move his hand either from where it was pressing against James'.

Reluctantly, he swung down and headed forward to check the jib.

James watched from his perch, lingering in the fresh breeze as it cooled his face, but finally he slid down the stay, landing on deck with a thump. Jack had the jib well taken care of, but James still joined him at the bow, helping to belay it more securely against the racing wind.

He heard Jack hum and snorted. "If that is music, I do hate it. With reason, I may add."

"I think Josh is enjoyin' himself!" Jack laughed. He made a point of joining in the last chorus of Gibbs' song, wandering around the small bow; sitting on a barrel, then bouncing to his feet and lighting on a chest.

Even with less than half her canvas hoisted, the Calypso sped over the waters, unearthly fast. The spray flew over her bow, showering them in a rain of salt water. "You stand there. Arms up. Maybe it will help the smell."

Jack scowled. "Speakin' of smells, I can recall a time when ya rivaled Gibbsy here."

"Your memory is impressive, Sparrow. Do you also remember how to wash, or is that too far in the past?"

"Only wif paprika." Gibbs snorted a laugh and James just looked confused. "Never mind. Long story. Y'know, mate, wif all the junk they got stowed below, maybe ye'll be lucky an' we'll find a bathtub."

James snorted and huffed an annoyed breath, hands folded behind his back. "Oh yes, brilliant and decorative. A bathtub. I suppose that would be a blessing considering your body odor if only we had sufficient water! But I suppose we do have enough rum to fill it. Which would lead to an endless debate on why the rum was gone, except it wouldn't be, because the entire ship is full of it."

He barely kept himself from kicking against the bulwark, surprised at his sudden rush of blood. "Rum in the cabin, rum in the hold, rum in your bloody coatpocket. Victuals? Who needs victuals? Maggot-infested hardtack will do as long as there is rum. Tell me, Sparrow, did you pick this ship because of the stocks?" He waved at the ship accusingly. "Swill, no food to speak of and debauchery. This is Tortuga in ship-form!"

He took a deep breath and bit his lip, eyes narrowed, looking down at his boots .

Gibbs applauded at the helm and they both turned to glare at him. Jack sidled next to James and leaned close. "Tortuga is my fav'rit port! An' seein' as you've got debauchery on yer mind..."

James' fist hit him square in the jaw and sent him reeling.

Jack staggered backwards, holding his chin and seeing stars. Or maybe it was sparrows. He blinked twice, grinned and promptly fell over backwards.

Gibbs nearly bit a hole through his tongue to keep from laughing out loud. God knew how Jack deserved that a hundred-times over, although he couldn't quite understand what debauchery Mr. Norrington was on about. Assuming he meant drink, Josh stowed his flask.

"Um.....Mr. Norrin'ton, sir?"

James spun around on his heels. "What is it?"

"There be some pemmican below. If yer hungry, that is." Gibbs quailed before James' fierce look. He remembered it far too well. "Sir."

James cleared his throat and swallowed, staring at the tips of his boots for a while. Embarrassing, to lose his control like that. Even more embarrassing that he'd wanted to grab Sparrow instead of laying him out. Rotten pirate ship and its rum fumes. "Thank you." His voice was calm once more, and he smirked as he stalked over and doused Jack with a bucket of seawater.

"AAAAGH!" Jack sat up, spitting water and looked up at James with the most ridiculous pout. "Knew you'd slap me!" Dripping, he got to his feet, heaved a sigh and removed himself to the bow, far away from any more blows.

"Fine bloody thing! Worse than Tortuga! Least I didn't have t'pay fer th' privilege," he grumbled, hunched on his barrel and sulking as hard as one wet pirate could sulk.

Not like he didn't start it. Mebbe that's what they DO in the Navy. Oww! Bugger's got a fist like iron, too.

The wind laughed itself silly at him.

  
An hour later, as the sun began to set, Jack relieved Gibbs at the helm and spent the first quarter-hour wallowing in his pout. He knew he should do something, but his jaw ached and he could think of much better ways James Norrington could use those hands of his. His nose was still out of joint when the stars began to wink.

The wind had not died away at all. If anything, it was steady and the Calypso fairly danced across the waves. Jack thanked the gods for all that 'junk' in the hold: much faster and they would need its weight to keep her steady.

The deck creaked as James approached hesitantly. Even in the fading light, he could see the purple bruise on Jack's jaw. He nearly stopped in his tracks to stare at the abrasions on his fist, but instead padded closer, holding out a bottle over the wheel. "Thought you might want to help make sure there's not that much rum aboard."

Jack eyed him cautiously, then took the bottle with muttered thanks. A good long swallow went a long way to restoring his high spirits and he grinned. "I thought yer idea about a rum bath quite int'restin', luv." He was careful not to ruffle any more of the ex-Admiral-Commodore's feathers. "Lookit those stars, Jamie! Whole bloody world of 'em."

"Especially if you see them double." James eased himself down on the deck and craned his head up, then blinked. "Sparrow, do we have enough rum aboard to get the stars drunk, or are your navigation skills even worse than I could fathom?"

"Wot are ya talkin' about, we're right on… oh bugger!" Jack stared at the night sky in dismay. Nothing up there looked right. He sought Polaris, but it seemed to have disappeared, along with Orion, the Pleiades and any other constellations he knew. He checked the compass by lamplight, eyes stealing sideways to watch James. "We're gettin' close."

  
"Did you read that in the rum bottle, or do you simply say it because it usually works to silence any questions the crew might have?"

"Nah. Fortune cookie." Jack smiled at him over the wheel. He saw no reason in continuing to sulk. It wasn't as if he hadn't been slapped a hundred times before and James had the dubious distinction of being the only one to have knocked him senseless.

"Ah, so you _are_ holding out on other victuals." James laughed softly and held his hand out for the bottle.

Jack chuckled as he passed it and their hands touched. Again. A tingle like the sting of a jellyfish or the shock of an electric eel ran up his arm and settled in lower parts.

For a moment, neither moved, staring at each other by the light of the lamp.

James' tongue darted out, wetting his lips. As he pulled himself to his feet, the ship shuddered and sped, a shape appearing in the foggy distance.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, when a massive jolt ran through him into the wheel and sent James sprawling on the deck. The Calypso creaked and groaned, a sickening grinding noise coming from below them. "GIBBS!" Jack shouted. "James, you al--" Another jolt knocked him off his feet and tipped the entire ship fore.

Jack slid down the deck into James. Together, they struggled to rise as Gibbs staggered on deck and grabbed a line to steady himself. "GET THE WHEEL!" James' long legs were tangled up with Jack's, and they had to haul together to get to their feet. "Wot the BLOODY hell!" Jack stared ahead.

A murky half light hid the night sky, like a miasma over a swamp. Dead ahead, all three men stared at what looked like an island, plopped down in the midst of a nowhere sea. No, not an island. A sand bar, a gigantic sand bar rose in front of them, full twenty feet in the air, splitting the horizon. Jack's mouth hung open and he shut it.

You're Captain Jack Sparrow. It's only a sand bar. Awright, it's the bloody biggest sandbar I've ever seen. He heard a gasp beside him.

James dug his heels into the deck to hold the helm, if not the ship, steady. "Sparrow. That ship you are missing, would it be a dark galleon with black sails?"

"Wot?"

James nodded. "Just off the starboard bow."

Jack looked and his mouth fell open again. There, perched like a roosting gull on top of the enormous barrier, was the Pearl.

"I'm gonna gut that bastard! AND his little monkey, too!"

  
[ch.6](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/171281.html)


	6. FIC:  NEVER SAY DIE  Ch. 6:  Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old friends meet as the venture takes a sudden turn. Our heartfelt thanks to [](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/profile)[**smtfhw**](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/) for her excellent beta. SPOILERS FOR AWE!!

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
bouncy  
---|---  
**Current music:** | quiet  
**Entry tags:** |  [fiction](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/tag/fiction)  
  
_**FIC: NEVER SAY DIE Ch. 6: Old Friends**_  
AUTHORS: [](http://elessil.livejournal.com/profile)[**elessil**](http://elessil.livejournal.com/) and [](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/profile)[**hippediva**](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/)  
DISCLAIMER: Rodent owns, we pilfer  
CHARS: Sparrow/Norrington, Gibbs, Barbossa et al  
RATING: PG-13

SUMMARY: Old friends meet as the venture takes a sudden turn. Our heartfelt thanks to [](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/profile)[**smtfhw**](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/) for her excellent beta. SPOILERS FOR AWE!!

[ch.5](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/170325.html)

Gibbs, Norrington and Jack stared up at the Pearl with round eyes. Only Gibbs and Jack were truly spooked by the sight of her, perched on the sand bar and teetering slowly back and forth, like a toy in a sand fort. Jack was cursing, Gibbs was doing some kind of superstitious dance and James just blinked in disbelieving shock.

Pintel poked his head over the edge of the Pearl's rail, and thrust a short arm in their direction. "It's Captain Jack!"

Ragetti appeared next to him, raising his head from where he had been crawling on the deck. "Again?" A small thing fell from his fingers and plopped into the sand below, rolling a few paces. "ME EYE!"

Pintel tut-tutted at him. "An' ya just finished makin' it. Wot a pity."

Murtogg appeared behind them and held up one hand. "As my mother always said, practice makes perfect. Make a new one."

A derisive snort echoed over the waves. "How would she know? She obviously never did."

"I will have you know that my mother..."

"GENTLEMEN!" Jack bellowed loud enough to be heard back in Singapore. "If you will do me the favour of shutting it! Where is he?"

Barbossa stalked towards the rail. Pintel pointed. "It's Captain Jack."

A glare silenced him.

"Sorry. Jack, I mean."

"Well, technically, since 'e's got a ship there..."

"Ahoy Hector. Bit o' trouble up there? It's a rather funny place fer careenin', mate." Jack was fidgeting on deck, staring up at his ship's black keel in dismay. "I must say I'm pleased t'see you've found y'self a port."

Barbossa mockingly waved his hat. "Since ya found yerself a ship, Jack, why be you chasin' mine around? Bringin' back me charts?"

"My chart an' my ship, mate. Ships. That still doesn't explain how ya got yerself up there. Sightseein'?" Jack turned to Gibbs. "Mr. Gibbs, close yer mouth or ye'll be catchin' flies. Keep a sharp eye and do NOT leave that wheel."

James muttered, under his breath, "I will not call you Commodore Sparrow."

"I wouldn't expect it, luv." Jack's grin was a golden shark's. His mind racing ahead, he could only imagine the chaos aboard the Pearl. "Hector, luv, yer awful quiet up there? Seas not bein' kind t'you?"

"No. She spilled you ashore here, an' the Devil knows why. It seems I'll have to find a more permanent way to rid myself of yer presence."

"Hector, luv. I wouldn't be doin' that." Jack watched the Pearl rock precariously as the crew shoved the guns out of their ports.

Barbossa bared his teeth. "If Fortune be on our side, the cannons shall blow ya to Kingdom Come, and us from this godforsaken rock."

"Your problem entirely, mate. At this angle, ya couldn't hit the broadside of a butterfly!" Jack was warming up to the situation and found it entirely in his favour. "But that's entirely beside th' point, luv. I wouldn't risk the Pearl on such an effort, if ya know wot I mean. Might have repercussions."

Barbossa held up his hand and the monkey jumped onto the rail to chitter. "Ya wouldn't risk her, would ya, Jack? You've always had such a soft spot for my ship."

"My ship, mate. An' I think ya might wanna run out the portside guns too. Yer tiltin'."

The Calypso had but four guns, small swivels at that, but Jack did not order them loaded. There was no chance of hitting anything that far above them any more than the Pearl could aim a cannonade at them without sending her crashing from her vantage point.

Sparrow waved the chart. "Of course, should ya blow us outta the water, luv, you'll lose any chance o' recoverin' this."

He leaned towards Norrington, who had been watching the proceedings with an arched brow. "He never could outthink me."

"Is that why he is captaining your ship. Again."

"Only temporarily, luv. Wonder how he got up there? "

"It may have escaped ya, Jack, so let me bring to yer attention that I already be here. An' that although you saw fit to steal me charts, yet you still were slower. Is that not th' story of yer life?"

"An' yet you're up there, high an' dry, and I'm down here. In the water. Funny innit?"

Jack glanced at Norrington, then at Gibbs. "F'God's sakes, look busy at least!"

James cleaned underneath his fingernails.

Gibbs immediately dropped to the deck and started scrubbing with his shirtsleeve.

Jack rolled his eyes and scowled up at the Pearl. "I suppose I could come back an' try t'tow you off. But I've important business to attend to. So, regrettably, I must say, ta!"

Barbossa put both arms on the rail, caressing it in an imitation of Jack and leaned forward. " And yet, you'd trade yer part fer mine. That be fine, no, Jack?"

"Doubtful, at best. Seein' as you're up there, and I'm down here. An' I don't see you jumpin'."

Jack leaned over to Norrington. "Think a bit o' canvas would move us along, luv? I really don't want t'continue this conversation."

James did not even look up. "No wind, I fear. We are as grounded as he is."

"Bugger! I don't wanna be jawin' wif Hector till the second Coming. Bloody hell!" He bit his lip and was about to shout up some new insult when the wind started to rise like a hurricane. Jack's hat flew off as it whistled through the Calypso's sails. Above him, Barbossa was laughing.

"JACK!" He turned and watched as Gibbs hung onto the wheel, his boots lifting from the deck. There was a low laugh in the gale as it tore Gibbs away from the wheel, straight towards the Pearl. Up he floated like a very large, grizzled bubble. Jack's eyes followed him, mouth open. "Now I've seen ev'rything!"

Gibbs landed, pretty as you please, on the Pearl's quarterdeck. "Cap'n! JACK!"

"Nice move, Josh!"

Next to them, there was a loud splash in the water, followed by Barbossa's angry cursing. The monkey chittered and climbed onto the large feathered hat.

"Cap'n Barbossa?" Ragetti's head poked over the rail.

The winds died away as suddenly as they had started and Jack's lip curled. "MR. GIBBS! TAKE CARE O' MY SHIP." He watched Barbossa and, cursing, extended a reluctant hand. "How nice of you t'drop in."

James watched as Barbossa took Jack's hand and hauled himself aboard as they both glared daggers at each other. He remembered the hand Jack had extended to him when he'd pulled himself aboard the tiny dinghy and this entire mess began. Touching Jack Sparrow's hand led to insanity, it would seem. It was a thread in his life, and, apparently, Barbossa's.

A tiny shudder went through him and he stared at the seas, still calm, but a slow ripple shook the water, breaking the mirror surface, just like the tiny fishing boat had.

The fishing boat! He stared at Barbossa, who was emptying his hat of seawater, then leaned close to Jack. "Three times breath regained," he whispered, just as the wind hissed past them.

"Nice t'catch up wif you, Hector. Now get off my---wot? Oh." _'Three times breath regained'_....three dead men. Jack glanced at Norrington, then back at Barbossa and grinned. Welcome aboard th' Calypso, Hector."

There was still no wind and they bobbed aimlessly. Damn damn damn! How to move? Jack thought so hard he was like to hurt himself, when a ripple of laughter seemed to echo from the still waters. "You steal an' wat you steal have powers, Jack Sparrow."

"You saw that?" Barbossa and Norrington both stared at Jack, who grinned and laughed airily. "Nothin'. Just thinkin'."

They exchanged a glance and rolled their eyes simultaneously.

The monkey, dripping wet, hopped from Barbossa's shoulder and shook itself with an angry chitter. Then it stilled and cocked its head, first at Jack, then at James.

With a screech, it scrambled towards James, rushing up his leg, climbing under his coat, then out of it. It fiddled and pulled and tugged, and finally, heaved a small bag out of the pocket, before jumping down to the deck with a great deal of noise.

Jack stomped a little ways off, arguing with himself about his pilfered plunder from Tia Dalma's shack. The ring? Such a pretty piece of shine, all gold and purple. The pouch? He fished it out of his pocket and poked it. Sand. He grinned. "Mr. Norrington, take the wheel. You, go make y'self useful."

"Jack, Jack, if the captain not be doing anything, nothing on the entire ship be useful." Barbossa petted the little monkey that still jumped up and down in excitement, fiddling with the bag's drawstrings.

It hit the deck and peanuts scattered all over.

Jack whirled around, staring from them to the monkey. He made a face and took a step backwards. "Where did those come from? No peanuts on my ship."

The monkey ran back towards James to check if there was more in his pockets, then jumped onto the deck, scrambling after the nuts.

He glared at Barbossa, who just looked confused. Then he turned to Norrington. His lip pushed out. "YOU!?"

James smiled charmingly and shrugged. "Your peanut?"

"OOOOH, YOU!" Jack was about to launch into a tirade about teasing one's captain with errant peanuts, when there was an ominous rumble beneath them. "Hold the wheel."

The sandbar itself rumbled and seemed to expand. Jack watched a rain of sand tumble from under the Pearl and squeaked. He ran to the bow and hurled the pouch at the looming barrier.

It shuddered, more sand falling on the deck like hail. All three shaded their eyes against it and the Calypso lurched forward, heading right for the sandbar. Bracing themselves for a collision that never came, they strained to watch a narrow tunnel open at its base and the little sloop sailed into it, right under the Pearl, teetering some twenty feet above.

James stared up, watching the shifting sand fade into complete darkness. Some ran down like quicksand, down his spine like the shudder that went up it. Sparrow's fault. Definitely. The supernatural followed the rotten pirate around like that monkey did Barbossa. He held the wheel steady, any echo swallowed by the sand.

He strained to see anything, and finally made out the barest hint of light ahead of them. Jack was standing just behind him; he could feel the warmth of breath against his neck. He jerked his elbow backwards. "My apologies. Can't see anything."

The second the sunlight hit the Calypso's deck, Barbossa jerked a pistol from his belt and aimed.

Jack moved so fast his hair hit James' in the mouth, pistol in hand. The report was swallowed in the fog and Barbossa's flintlock crashed to the deck.

A snarl, then the hiss of metal, and Barbossa had his cutlass out. The blade met Norrington's while Jack was still trying to free his newest acquisition from the too-narrow scabbard.

Barbossa snarled and lunged, his eyes widening in surprise as James blocked his attack easily and spun around for a riposte. Their swords crossed once, steel glinting mere inches from their faces. "An' who might you be to interfere with a fight betwixt two old friends?"

James smiled tightly. "An old friend." Barbossa shoved and their blades separated, then met again in a clash.

Jack danced out of the way, still struggling with his sword and grimaced. "Friends, by that, meanin' people who only _try_ to kill me." He dodged James' blade by an inch and jumped up and down trying to get the damned sword free.

"BUGGER! BUGGER! BUGGER!"

His eyes darted, along with his feet, as James and Barbossa put their arms into quite a show. The blades rang and sparked and Jack squeaked as Barbossa almost took off the top of his head with a vicious slash.

Oil? Only got one lamp. Rum. Nah, that won't work. Jack leaped about to stay clear and his heel turned. He fell flat on his backside and eyed the crushed peanut fragment, then grinned.

They were all over the deck, and Jack had to fight the monkey for a sizable handful, hissing and cursing the creature as they both tried to grab the nuts and steer clear of the flashing blades. He tiptoed around behind Barbossa and let the handful fall.

James' eyes widened for a split second, and he pressed, thrusting his blade forward. With a laugh, Barbossa easily dodged the lunge. His bootheels crushed the peanuts and he wavered.

That was all James needed. He leaped forward, blade twisted to his side and knocked the cutlass out of Barbossa's hand, and, with a shove, sent him down to the deck, flat on his back. Another peanut, tossed with unerring aim, landed on him.

James waited until Jack had safely stowed the blade before pointing his own away from Barbossa's throat. "James Norrington is the name."

Barbossa raised an eyebrow. "Y'mean Norrington, the Pirate Hunter? Thought ye were dead." He pushed James' sword aside, leaning on his elbows. "Jack, yer always a surprise. Where'd ya find him?"

Jack looked at James and grinned. "Hangin' round. Apparently, dead is a relative term nowadays."

James held out his hand. "I had _hoped_ you were dead."

Barbossa smirked and hauled himself to his feet. "So sorry to disappoint ye. I was. So was he." He pointed at Jack, who was once again ready to shoot the monkey. It had found his hat and was hanging from the rigging, chittering and threatening to toss it overboard. "Don't touch my monkey, ya scurvy swine."

"I think he intends to shoot it, not strangle it," James drawled.

"GIMME BACK MY HAT!" Jack yelled, taking aim.

Barbossa shook his head and whistled. "C'mere, Jack. That's a good Jack. Nice Jack." He tossed the human Jack his hat. "Present comp'ny excepted."

The monkey made a face at Jack, who stuck his tongue out at Barbossa.

James turned to Jack, his lips twitching. "So there _are_ likeable specimens carrying that name."

"Don't you start! How in hell did ya fall off my ship, Hector? Eyesight givin' ya trouble in yer old age?"

Barbossa grimaced at his own hat, where James' sword had cut clean through one of the shabby feathers. "I be drawn to you, Jack, you should be aware of that." He laughed. "Or at least yer ship. You promised to make me Commodore, gave me yer hand on it, as ye might remember."

"Like you signed onto my crew as first mate?" Jack countered. "An' I'd say yer more like drawing on me. Constantly."

For the first time since encountering the sand bar and gliding through it, Jack took a look around them. Patchy fog lowered like miniature stormclouds above brackish water the colour of ink. The air smelled dank and close and it was chill as January. Jack suppressed a shiver and grinned at Barbossa. "I fail t'see where rehashin' old negotiations is any help....help?" He peered through the fog at some hazy form in the distance, then looked at James. "More comp'ny."

Slowly, a raft was floating towards them, dim and grey as the fog. As it drew closer, they could see it was festooned with fishing nets, draped like bunting about it, all empty and hanging limp. Aboard it, a tall woman in grey stood, her face leadwhite, her hair streaming to her knees, pale and silvery. She raised her head and one empty eyesocket gaped, the other fixed a milky blind eye on them. She pointed from whence she came in silence, and in silence passed them by, leaving a chill that cut to the bone.

Barbossa stared and even the monkey stopped chittering. "What on earth - or hell - be that?"

James swallowed hard, then straightened and gripped the wheel tight. "A sign we are on the right course."

Jack tore his eyes away, shuddering and quite sure he, for one, remembered her. One look at James' face, then Hector's, told the same story: they all had seen her and not one could stomach mentioning the fact.

"You'd think they'd have buoys, like normal folk, wouldn't ya?"

"What would you know of normal folk, Sparrow?"

"Enough t'know they don't use strange females as signposts."

"Point taken." Uneasy laughter echoed over the ship, then silence, until James broke it again, "So we follow, Captain?"

"Aye, James. Keep us on course. Hector, wot say you we haul t'gether instead of spendin' this whole voyage tryin' t'skewer each other. Long as yer here."

Barbossa's eyes narrowed. "An' wots t'say you won't break such an agreement th'moment we're close?"

Jack sighed. "Mate, I got a funny feelin' we don't have much of a choice here. Do we have an accord?"

Barbossa bared his teeth and finally offered his hand. "Aye, once again, we do."

Jack took it and a little of the chill eased at a warm touch. "Agreed." He sniffed at the faint breeze. "Let's give her more canvas, aye?"

  
[ch. 7](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/171787.html)


	7. FIC:  NEVER SAY DIE  Ch. 7: Rum, Shellfish and Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trials of Neptune turn dangerous and James asks questions. Our heartfelt thanks to the wonderful [](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/profile)[**smtfhw**](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/) for her excellent beta. SPOILERS FOR AWE!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs they sing are as follows:

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
bouncy  
---|---  
**Current music:** | tv  
**Entry tags:** |  [fiction](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/tag/fiction)  
  
_**FIC: NEVER SAY DIE Ch. 7: Rum, Shellfish and Song**_  
AUTHORS: [](http://elessil.livejournal.com/profile)[**elessil**](http://elessil.livejournal.com/) and [](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/profile)[**hippediva**](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/)  
DISCLAIMER: Rodent owns 'em. We pilfer  
CHARS: Sparrow/Norrington, Barbossa  
RATING: PG--a little more than 13, a little less than R

SUMMARY: The Trials of Neptune turn dangerous and James asks questions. Our heartfelt thanks to the wonderful [](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/profile)[**smtfhw**](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/) for her excellent beta. SPOILERS FOR AWE!!!

  
[Ch.6](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/171281.html)

  
"Brace th' mainstays and let fly!" Barbossa was sitting on Jack's barrel, gnawing on a bit of hardtack and shouting random orders at Sparrow, who was hanging in the rigging like a stuck fly.

"Let fly where? Madagascar?" Jack hauled himself to the crossjack and perched like his namesake.

Barbossa laughed. "Then take in th' mizzentop."

"Hector, luv, you been in that rum too long. Yer seeing double! We've only one mast." Jack chortled, his head thrown back to the faint wind.

At the wheel, James cleared his throat. "We already decided we did not need one figurehead; we certainly have no use for two." The Calypso flew by herself, and sometimes, he wondered if he moved the rudder or if the rudder moved him. There was little to do, but enough to at least make oneself look useful. They showed no inclination whatsoever, instead trading insults in a good-natured manner.

Exceptionally good-natured, considering that not an hour ago, they'd drawn their pistols on each other. Perhaps 'people trying to kill me' _was_ the definition of 'friend' to Jack.

James laughed softly. Strange to think that. That he'd consider calling Jack a friend after their ventures. Ventures that were not over and he knew not why he'd joined. Immortality? For certain, he was relieved to be alive, wondering if his memory was a flight of fancy until, in secrecy, his hand had slid under his shirt to ghost over the hard ridges of a scar.

But immortality? That was entirely different from being alive; that was interfering with God and nature, that was presuming upon one's own importance to n a preposterous level. Of course Sparrow would. James grimaced. Who could, in confidence, say the world was a better place for their presence?

He thought himself a good man, despite all his mistakes. Despite his best intentions, he'd oft enough chosen the wrong path. He would miss the world, but could he dare presume the world would miss him?

A shudder ran down his spine and he looked up, fiddling with his shirt to shake out the offensive peanut. "Jack. Stop throwing peanuts at Jack."

"Why not? 'S fun t'make him scurry." The two Jacks had been needling each other almost as much as Sparrow and Barbossa. Denied the opportunity to use the small simian as a personal target, Jack satisfied himself with terrorising it and the monkey terrorised him right back, much to its owner's amusement.

"Are ya roostin' up there, Jack? Or sneakin' a bit of friggin'?" Barbossa cracked peanuts for the monkey and fed it with as much cooing as a fashionable lady with one of those horrid little dogs. Jack threw another peanut at them both.

"Ha! Like that time ya got yerself stuck in th---"

"SPARROW, shut it!" The peanut shells went flying and Jack laughed. The seas still looked like the fen country, patches of fog lowering over green-black water. There was little wind, but the current was strong and Jack preferred being aloft to enduring the stink of brackish water, worse than any bilges.

"Yes, Jack, here ya go. Good l'il boy!" The monkey was nibbling out of Barbossa's hand and glancing nervously up at its nemesis.

Beyond the fetid waters, they could see nothing. Any horizon was lost in the fog and the skies were nearly the same colour, a sickly green-grey fraught with haze.

  
Darkness settled around them, dusk ending the sun's fight against the mist. James squinted once more at the compass and the needle shuddered, the wheel with it. With a frown, he loosened his hold. Their course held, the Calypso flying across the waters without any hand to steer her, as though she felt the same thrum he did, a calling to whatever was their destination.

"Sparrow, did you swallow a magnet?"

"Why're you yellin'?" Jack was right behind him. "An' not to my knowledge, altho' you never know wot yer eatin' these days." It was a mark of Jack's estimation that he was trusting his precious compass with James. He had already made quite sure to hide the crab's bottle. Its inhabitant did not seem to mind much and he had enough to worry about with the chart.

"Knowin' Jack, he prob'ly made a meal of 'em. How'd ya think he lost all those teeth?" Barbossa yawned. "Goin' below fer a bit o' shuteye." He swung to his feet, the monkey cradled in the crook of his arm, and disappeared.

Jack stuck out his tongue at them and made a very rude gesture with one hand, the other reaching for the rum. "I suppose we must put up wif his stink on th' sheets."

"Unless you wash, yes." James eased his hold on the wheel, then let it go. The Calypso held steadily on course. "I believe we are past the point of no return."

Jack stretched himself out on the deck. "James, it is my professional opinion that we were past that before we started." He grinned as he lit the single lamp. "It is also my professional opinion that you can tie off th' wheel. Seems she knows where she's goin'."

James arched his brow. "Sparrow, I do believe I have no desire to know how long you are past washing." Once more, he glanced at the compass. The needle shuddered and he quickly snapped it shut before it could determine whether there really were any magnets in the pirate's stomach. He tied off the helm, eased himself to the deck and held out one hand expectantly.

Jack passed the ever-present bottle and used the moment to sniff at himself. "I fail to see how I'm offendin' that badly."

"Ah, I understand the problem. Sparrow, one does not LOOK for stench. It is the nose, not the eyes that are offended."

Jack shook his head with a faint clatter. " If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out? If thy nose offend thee, pick it? Honestly, yer as prickly as a cactus. Bad enough I'm not gonna sleep a wink with Hector aboard."

James ducked the reindeer shinbone. "You are the one with sharp items attached to yourself."

Jack treated him to his best grin and fetched the bottle back. "I meant that! Don't know how I'll manage. An' I like my sharp items as you so delicately refer to 'em." He almost said "you did too' but stifled himself with another guzzle.

"He will doublecross you again, won't he?" James asked quietly, frowning at the deck.

Jack nodded. "Aye, any chance he can." He heaved a sigh and drowned it in more rum. "I'll just have to keep a weather eye, won't I?"

"Or not get too drunk. Give me that."

Jack handed it over with a faint belch. "Least o' my worries, mate. I don't like sharing a berth with him any more than I'd like sharin' one wif... Hades. Given our history, I don't think I'm far wrong t'say he'll try to nick the chart an' prob'ly try to kill me a few more times."

"In all fairness, you _did_ kill him first."

"An' I don't plan on waitin' a decade to do it again," Jack grumbled.

James laughed softly, hiding a shudder in another swallow. "That would be the disadvantage of death being a relative term."

"Long as I get 'im first, I don't care who its relatives are."

James snorted. "You killed him. He brought you back. Incestuous lot, it would seem."

"He did NOT! He only navigated. An' navigatin' is not at all to say he wanted t'bring me back fer any altruistic reasons." Jack blew into the bottle and amused himself making noise for a moment before handing it back to James.

"And how did I get back?" James' voice was low and he turned the bottle in his hands before looking up, into Jack's eyes.

Jack hid a scowl behind a laugh. "Well, luv, I guess you didn't go to any peaceful rest an' there's no tellin' wot can happen when ya've got the likes o' Jones an' his piscidalous crew."

"I'm thinking more in the direction of you and your crabby crew."

"Wot? An' I do NOT have crabs!" Jack shifted uncomfortably.

"I should hope not." James grimaced. "But you do keep one in a bottle."

"Old keepsake. Very precious to me that is. Sentimental value." Jack eyed James and squirmed again.

James wordlessly arched an eyebrow.

Jack toyed with one of his hair trinkets and tried to ignore it.

James straightened his spine, the green eyes narrowing and glinting, fixed unflinchingly on Jack's.

Jack blinked innocently and whistled a scrap of a tune.

The sound of James' breath was unnaturally loud.

Jack wriggled around, suddenly very interested in the wood grain of the deck.

The silence hung like a thundercloud between them until Jack grinned brightly. "Wot were ya sayin', luv?"

"Crab." James' voice was low and deceptively smooth, the green staring eyes strangely dark.

"Lovely wif a bit o' drawn butter. I know a place in the Colonies, makes the damned best she crab soup I've ever tasted."

James' eyes narrowed further.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Awright. Let's see. Wherever should I start? How 'bout th' beginnin', aye? Well, long, long time ago, back when the Greeks were still wanderin' round the Mediterranean wif striped sails an' no riggin' t'speak of, there was this goddess. She had a terrible weakness fer sailors. Human sailors, I mean. After all, wouldn't be much of a story if she were only interested in god sailors, would it? She kept popping herself into a human body---a very attractive an' feminine sort o' human body, of course---an' doin' all sorts o' scandalous things wif 'em." Jack preened, twirling his moustache. "I suppose if a goddess thinks us sailors 're worth puttin' up wif bein' human, yer average run-o'-th'-mill ordinary female would too. Funny, innit?"

James removed his gaze from Jack's face very briefly, looking down to his waist and arching an eyebrow, then looked up again. "Calypso. What about her?"

"Oh you know 'er! Wonderful. Lovely gal, eh? Brilliant conversationalist an' marvellous inventive, as it were. Well, she never stops takin' up wif sailors. Years and years an' years, an' she picks one, then another, then another. She just can't get enough of us. Maybe it's because we understan' things that are perfectly understandable t' her, bein' a sea goddess an' all."

James cleared his throat. "Such as the delights of crab soup?"

Jack had warmed to his story and actually started to get interested himself. "She-crab soup woulda been a rude suggestion. I mean, ya wouldn't go to see the Queen an' suggest that she'd be better off as a puddin', would ya? Yer interruptin'. Maybe it's the sea itself, maybe the smell o' the brine and the winds an' currents, the way it always changes an' yet stays the same. Anyways, she keeps on, lovin' sailors an' leavin' each one fer the next, down through centuries. Because, y'know goddesses, they just don't think like we do, because they've got eternity an' we get a few years. On top of it, she's a woman, so there's no makin' any sense outta her anyways, no matter what form she's in."

James snorted. "Calypso as shellfish? She is smaller than I expected."

"She's a goddess, mate! She can be any size she wants. An' yer ruinin' a perfectly good story." Jack pouted. "So she goes her merry way, havin' her fun and fun it was, lots of it----sailin' wif sailors, lovin' sailors, trickin' 'em into lovin' her an' laughin' at 'em when she gets bored an' finds someone new. Just like a woman, but of course, she's not a woman, not a regular human woman at all.

"Is that why she was in your breeches, Sparrow?"

Jack's pout grew. "Wouldn't be gentlemanly to elaborate, luv. An' yer interruptin' again."

"Sparrow, I hate to point out the obvious, but you are no gentleman."

"And she was no lady. Are you gonna listen to this or not, mate?" Jack leaned closer, his black eyes glittery. "So she falls fer this one sailor, an' that was her mistake, because we all know that one sailor isn't like every other, don't we? She loved him, he loved her an' it all ended very bad fer everyone involved."

James listened, watching curiously how Jack's fingers wriggled and squirmed in his lap. "Tentacley, it would seem."

Jack glanced up sharply. "Aye. So he turned the tables on his immortal paramour an' bound her to that human form he loved so well. That didn't turn out so well either, fer both of 'em. To be frank, I rather was on her side. I mean, wot's th' point of fallin' in love with anyone an' then tryin' t'change 'em? Doesn't make much sense, but nothin' with women, mortal or otherwise, makes much sense, does it? Complications all round, things don't quite fall the way they should, an' here we are." Sparrow's fingers still twitched, then settled around the rum bottle.

"With crabs in bottles and dead men aboard."

"Among other things."

Jack grabbed the bottle to refresh himself after such a long and arduous narrative. Mid-guzzle, he became aware of James' implacable gaze. Persistent bugger!

"So, if you are on her side, why precisely are you keeping 'Calypso' in a bottle?"

"Crablypso? Keepsake. I'm dreadful sentimental, y'know, despite all appearances."

James cocked his head. "Calypso wants her freedom. You have her, or a crabby part of her, in a bottle. Hence, Calypso wants something from you. Ergo, you received something from her." The green eyes glinted. "Why me?"

Jack glared over the bottle's neck. Too bloody smart Commocaptiral! He heaved a sigh. "Were you always this much of a know-it-all, mate? I didn't ask fer anyone in particular. Fact is, I didn't ask fer any_one_ at all."

James blinked and instead of the dark eyes, watched Jack's mouth, soft and twisted just a little downwards. "The Pearl?"

Jack's lip curled. "Course. Wot else?" He gnawed on it for a moment, then looked up warily. "I wasn't displeased, though."

James was still, then took the bottle and raised it in a wordless toast. "Even if it was unintentional, I suppose I owe you my thanks."

Jack squirmed. Bad as it was to have James guess the truth of it, it was worse to be thanked for it. For some reason, that didn't feel terribly good and Jack could never have explained why. He grinned but his eyes were softer than James had ever seen them. "Don't mention it. Guess it's gonna take us three dead men t'get through this venture."

James chuckled softly, his lips pressed together. "I think I'd rather count myself among the living."

Jack grinned and squeezed his arm. "Feels solid enough t'me, luv. An' we're both here because o' her, so I suppose we should both thank the crab. Although, strictly speakin', I can't imagine a crustacean acknowledgin' thanks, much less understandin' how t'properly reply. Come t'think of it, I don't know as it would understand English." Jack was squinting, a sure sign he was lying through his teeth, but his smile was genuine.

"That's why you're always talking to yourself, I'm sure."

"Huh? I don't follow that at all. An' I'm not always talkin' t'myself! I was talkin' to you. Funny how all them old sailor's tales have more tails an' fins than landlubbers suspect? Ever heard th' one about th' mermaid who got her tail in a knot? Happened somewhere off the Canaries, must be sixty years or more. She were swimming round, enjoyin' her life just fine, when this fisherman----Spanish chappie wif an eye fer a nice pair o'----"

He startled at a soft snore and the faint touch of James' head drooping onto his shoulder.

Heaving a sigh, Jack almost wished the crab was on deck to appreciate his conversation. He was gearing up for another massive sulk, but yawned instead. James was warm and the night air was chill. Within moments, the bottle slipped from his fingers and his head dropped to join James'.

  
James blinked himself awake in the chill just before dawn. Strange, that it would only chill his back...Oh. Jack's legs were tangled with his, head wedged under his chin, warm breath teasing at his collar.

Jack's lips smacked and he murmured some garbled nonsense about the key fitting the lock, positively snuggling.

James snorted and yawned, cut short by a gasp when Jack's leg pressed between his. With a soft growling noise, he pressed back.

Jack sprawled over James, his hand curling ever-so-conveniently in his lap. The tar-stained fingers fluttered, prodded, then stroked, one eye opening. My, my! Bigger than I remembered an' very nice indeed. His lips curved into a grin.

James grinned back, the first ray of sunlight glinting on his teeth. His hand froze on Jack's buttons when there was a deep, rumbling laugh.

"Jack, yer still up t'yer old tricks, aren't ya? Tell me, have you ever managed a two-day sail without havin' a bit on deck?" Barbossa damned near howled with laughter. The monkey joined him, chittering and pelting them with peanut shells.

Jack disentangled himself with a sniff, stalked to the lee rail and occupied himself with a different kind of morning relief.

James cleared his throat. "Good morning."

"Apparently, it is fer you two." Barbossa eyed the waters with a snarl. "Did ya bother t'make sure yer still on course? The ship, I mean." Jack the monkey screeched and jumped up and down.

Jack the human righted his breeches and stomped to the wheel. "Compass, Mr. Norrington, if ya please."

James reached into his pocket and bit back a groan, relieved by the cool breeze. He held out the compass. "Aye, Captain."

"Jack, ya didn't trade yer precious compass fer a tumble, did you now?" Barbossa was still chuckling as he, too, welcomed the breeze and a ray of sunlight broke through the gloom.

"Bugger off, Hector. An' if ya can arse yerself to it, try to be a bit of help, willya?"

"Looks like you be the one closer to a bit of buggery, Jack."

"More lies an' slander! I was not."

James cleared his throat. "He was not."

"Course not. Ye both be pure as the driven snow. Least we know that's one thing ya don't run away from, eh, Jack?" Barbossa was clearly enjoying the fact that James' face was scarlet as a Marine's coat and Jack was a peculiar shade of dusky vermilion.

"Hector, luv." Jack's gilded grin was dangerous. "I really wouldn't revisit all that right now. Could be bad fer yer heal---" He stopped suddenly. "Shut yer gob! D'ya hear that?"

For a moment, Barbossa still sniggered, then he, too, fell silent, listening to the sound of a child's song, borne on the wind, high and fleeting; then changing to the sound of the depths, a weird and eerie noise, like Uilean pipes echoing far away.

Jack fished the spyglass from his pocket and scanned the horizon. The seas had gone from grey to brilliant blue, the sunlight peeking through clouds to sparkle. He could see no land, yet there seemed to be islands around them, shaded and blurred like a spoilt watercolour. He peered, and suddenly snapped the glass closed, his face twisting. Wordlessly, he handed it to James.

The shapes on the islands were clearer than the land itself, bloated and ragged like unfortunate bodies returned to the sea without weight to hold them down. Hair tangled on the misshaped heads like seaweed. James' flush faded to icy pallor and he did not fight as Barbossa snatched the glass from him.

The song grew louder, then faded to nothingness, only to return, hypnotic and lulling. Jack's eyes grew glassy and he turned the wheel towards them, his face slack.

James shook his head and raised one hand, only to turn and haul at the sheets.

Even the monkey hung in the rigging, dazed and enchanted to silence.

It lost its hold on the ratline and crashed to the deck. It chirped meekly, then rushed up Barbossa's shoulder to chitter at him, the noise echoing over the song for a brief moment.

His eyes cleared and he blinked, watching the sloop teeter towards the islands, clearer now, the song more insistent. "What are you doing?" Jack showed no reaction and neither did Norrington.

"Sorry, Jack." His laugh and the thud of his fist against Jack's face drowned out the voices.

Sparrow reeled, still clinging to the wheel, then shook his head and blinked. The song rose around them and he swayed towards James, grabbing his arm. "James! JAMES! JAMIE!" He shouted.

James still stared blankly ahead, unmoving, until Jack's hand grabbed hold of his breeches. Or rather what was inside them.

Barbossa's laughter was wild, drowning out the lulling voices. "Sing, ya fools! SING fer yer lives! Those be sirens an' there be no man alive or dead who can resist their song. SING!"

His voice boomed as he started to bellow, "A handsome young sailor to London came down. He'd been paid off his ship in old Liverpool town."

James blinked and spared a moment to glare at Jack with a new glint in his eyes before joining to sing, "All you that will be seamen must bear a valiant heart, For when you come upon the seas you must not think to start,..."

Jack started, "One evening last October, when I was far from sober, and dragging home a load with manly pride…"

Barbossa's baritone boomed, "They asked him his name and he answered them: quite I belong to a family called nine times a night."

Jack switched tunes, figuring he might just confuse a siren or two. "The cabin boy was chipper, a nasty little nipper."

James made for the wheel, and together, they pulled the Calypso backon course, fighting the wheel that, once more, had a will of its own. "Nor once to be faint-hearted in hail, rain, or snow, nor to shrink, nor to shrink when the stormy winds do blow."

"He lined his ass with broken glass and circumcised the skipper."

James grimaced and raised his voice to drown out the sirens _and_Jack. "Heart of oak are our ships, heart of oak are our men; we always are ready, steady, boys, steady! We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again."

Barbossa chimed in with, "Now listen my children, a story you'll hear. A song I will sing you; 'twill fill you with cheer. A charming young maiden was wed in the Fall. She married a man who had no balls at all."

Jack countered, "The bosun's mate was Andy. A Portsmouth man and randy, he used to cool his favourite tool in a glass of the skipper's brandy. "

"Sometimes in Neptune's bosom our ship is tossed in waves, and every man expecting the sea to be their graves..." Slowly, the Calypso heaved herself past the islands that melted back into the haze, the luring song fading into shrill complaint, barely hissing through their own frightening chorus.

Barbossa was still singing, "I can't give you anything but love, baby."

Jack and James stopped to stare at him. He shrugged. Even the monkey had been shrieking and chittering along with them and now clung to Barbossa. They were all panting.

Finally, Jack broke the silence. "I dunno 'bout you lot, but I need a drink!"

For once, they were all in accord.

[ch.8](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/173448.html#cutid1)

  
NOTES: The songs they sing are as follows:

Barbossa sings: Nine Times A Night ([http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/bawd&lt;!--&lt;wbr&gt;\--&gt;&lt;!--&lt;/wbr&gt;\--&gt;y-songs/007357.HTM](http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/bawdy-songs/007357.HTM))  
No Balls at All ([http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/bawd&lt;!--&lt;wbr&gt;\--&gt;&lt;!--&lt;/wbr&gt;\--&gt;y-songs/007360.HTM](http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/bawdy-songs/007360.HTM))  
I Can't Give You Anything but Love, Baby (Jimmy McHugh and Dorothy Fields, l928)

  
James sings: Heart of Oak ([http://www.contemplator.com/england/he&lt;!--&lt;wbr&gt;\--&gt;&lt;!--&lt;/wbr&gt;\--&gt;artoak.html](http://www.contemplator.com/england/heartoak.html))  
Neptune's Raging Fury ([http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/nave&lt;!--&lt;wbr&gt;\--&gt;&lt;!--&lt;/wbr&gt;\--&gt;l-songs-ballads/naval-songs-ballads%20-%2&lt;!--&lt;wbr&gt;\--&gt;&lt;!--&lt;/wbr&gt;\--&gt;00245.htm](http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/navel-songs-ballads/naval-songs-ballads%20-%200245.htm))

  
Jack sings: The Pig and the Inebriate ([http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/bawd&lt;!--&lt;wbr&gt;\--&gt;&lt;!--&lt;/wbr&gt;\--&gt;y-songs/008104.HTM](http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/bawdy-songs/008104.HTM))  
Friggin' in the Riggin' ([http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/bawd&lt;!--&lt;wbr&gt;\--&gt;&lt;!--&lt;/wbr&gt;\--&gt;y-songs/003683.HTM](http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/bawdy-songs/003683.HTM))


	8. FIC: NEVER SAY DIE:  Ch. 8:  Out of the Frying Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one ever said the Trials of Neptune in the Devil's Triangle were going to be easy. Our warmest thanks to [](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/profile)[**smtfhw**](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/) for her excellent and swift beta. And our apologies for the time lag while [](http://elessil.livejournal.com/profile)[**elessil**](http://elessil.livejournal.com/) TCB with exams.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
calm  
---|---  
**Current music:** | Satyricon  
**Entry tags:** |  [fiction](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/tag/fiction)  
  
_**FIC: NEVER SAY DIE: Ch. 8: Out of the Frying Pan**_  
AUTHORS: [](http://elessil.livejournal.com/profile)[**elessil**](http://elessil.livejournal.com/) and [](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/profile)[**hippediva**](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/)  
DISCLAIMER: Rodent owns, we plunder  
RATING: PG-13  
CHARACTERS: Sparrow/Norrington, Barbossa

SUMMARY: No one ever said the Trials of Neptune in the Devil's Triangle were going to be easy. Our warmest thanks to [](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/profile)[**smtfhw**](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/) for her excellent and swift beta. And our apologies for the time lag while [](http://elessil.livejournal.com/profile)[**elessil**](http://elessil.livejournal.com/) TCB with exams.

[Ch. 7](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/171787.html#cutid1)

James blinked himself awake and stretched out on the deck, the wooden planks digging uncomfortably into his shoulders. The ship was nearly still, thrumming with unearthly speed but seemingly unaffected by the pitch of the waves.

Or he had just become used to Sparrow's way of walking.

He stretched a bit more and hit Jack's ankle with his heel. Purely by accident. "Morning."

"Ow!" Jack roused himself from his half-doze at the wheel and shook himself awake. There had been little need for him to stand there for hours, but he had long ago acquired a knack for sleeping on his feet, eyes half-closed. It always scared the bejesus out of his crew. "Is it mornin'? Feels like bloody noon." It was hot and sticky as the worst summer days in Port Royal. The haze only seemed to increase the humidity and even Jack was sweating.

"You were supposed to keep watch; therefore you should know," James grabbed the rail and pulled himself upright. They stood close and watched the horizon, the sun barely gleaming through the fog, diffuse and difficult to spot.

"Watch wot? The haze? Bloody weird." Jack scowled. "An' that's weird an' annoyin'." He pointed at Barbossa, snoring like an asthmatic buffalo with Jack the monkey snuffling a raucous descant.

"_You_ are weird and annoying, Sparrow, so you should feel right at home." James' voice was softer than his words and he put his hand on the helm next to Jack's. "Tedious, to keep watch in such bleak weather. And rather embarrassing for a Midshipman to confuse a torn, frayed ratline with an enemy ship." He chuckled.

Jack laughed softly, his eyes meeting James' with a hint of surprise in the dark depths. "Ya didn't! Bet you got yerself laughed off the quarterdeck fer months."

"Hemp in my supper, actually. Not that it tasted particularly different."

"Ugh! Nothin' worse than a mouthful of it when there's still tar." Jack made an appropriate face. "I never developed a taste fer it."

James arched a brow. "Chewing your nails, Sparrow?"

"Done my time wif that, too." The pirate grinned at him. "I'm sure you've had yer moments." He leaned over the wheel with a smile. "I must say the seas here are interestin'."

"I suppose people may have had the urge to stuff your mouth with oakum to silence you, too. The tar explains the colour of your remaining teeth." With a smile, James nudged Jack's fingers off the helmspokes. "Get some rest now. Unlike the other Jack, you need it."

Again, there was that thrill of an electric shock as their fingers touched, then Sparrow tossed himself against the bulwark like a broken marionette. "Lemme know when ya need a break. Bananas an' coconut milk, please..." Jack went back to his dreams. There was another splash, this time port amidships, then another and another.

Jack was awakened from his coconut dream when thirty pounds of fish landed in his lap. "Wot th' bleedin'..." He tossed it overboard, ducked another one and peeked over the rail.

James had drawn his sword, unsuccessfully attempting to skewer the fish that practically flew across the sloop. "At least they do not sing."

Jack gaped at what had to be one of the strangest sights he'd ever witnessed in all his years of bizarre adventuring. Huge fish were leaping out of the water willy nilly, landing on the deck, tangling in the rigging, flying overhead like cannonballs. The sea was churning like a bubbling cauldron as they jumped and flashed.

"I don't wanna know." Jack batted at them with a belaying pin. "Hector! Wake th' hell up! We've got fish."

Barbossa was about to reply that they were in the ocean, therefore fish were a natural phenomenon, when a particularly big one flapped into his hat, smacking him on the side of the head so hard he saw stars. "I must say, this is becomin' an interestin' voyage." The monkey scolded and bolted into the rigging to avoid the scaly missiles.

James ducked a fish and skewered another, tossing it on the deck. "At least we will have supplies other than hardtack and rum," he muttered, spinning around for another slash.

"Get away! Damnation!" Jack jumped to avoid a huge wriggling mass, slipped on another and struggled to get to his feet, kicking them out of his way while Barbossa swung wildly, his sword blade resembling a skewer.

They were everywhere, jumping higher and faster and they seemed to be getting bigger. "The deck was writhing and flapping, hundreds of manic eyes peering up as they littered the Calypso.

James stood his ground next to the wheel, defying all fish that launched themselves against the helmspokes to push them off course. There was a shout before the next splash and he jerked around just in time to see Jack flailing as he crashed overboard.

Barbossa kept laughing and slashing away until the port side was awash in fish blood. "Leave 'im. If Jonah wants t'take the bird, he's welcome to!"

"The whale ate Jonah, not the other way around," James said dryly, unrolling a tow line with one hand, sword in the other, ducking and fighting fish, frantically slashing his way towards the rail.

"The devil take 'em both! Ha! I'd give my teeth fer a good fire!" Barbossa beat back another wave.

The Calypso had slowed, perhaps mired in the welter of fish, straining to move against the unseen forces that could make fish jump and time wobble. Still, Jack seemed unduly far behind them.

"I doubt anyone would want them," James quipped breathlessly, throwing the line. A fish nearly knocked it out of his fist and it flew through the air, far from its target.

Again and again, he hurled the line only to have it bounce through the air like a child's ball. He stared and hauled, then, finally, with a snarl, dropped his coat to the deck, wrapped the line around his chest and jumped.

Jack floundered in a vicious froth of fins and tails, struggling to swim. He nearly swallowed one; spat and choked, trying to shout over the flapping frenzy.

Gasping, he went under again, trying to dive and beaten down relentlessly.

James struggled through the fish, shoving them aside, feeling as though he were Moses attempting to part the Red Sea. Without a staff. Finally, he reached Jack and grabbed for him through the flock of fish, flailing for his arm.

Jack choked and coughed, fingers grasping for James' in the midst of a boiling sea. Together, they hauled on the line, hand over hand, both grabbing snatches of breath.

The fish still launched themselves at them, snouts crashing hard against knuckles and they slipped, again and again, only slowly pulling their way back towards the boat.

The Calypso had stopped moving entirely, and was bobbing on the waves, rocked on the water by the fish. Faintly, they could make out Barbossa's shouts over the splashing.

Jack didn't bother trying to talk: he was much to busy trying to breathe. Barbossa hauled them closer, and the Calypso shuddered and started as if anxious to keep moving.

They pulled themselves aboard, ducking behind the rail breathlessly. They could feel the thrum in the timbers as, once more, the sloop's sails bellied, and she strained onwards, fighting through a sea of fish.

Panting, James turned. "Are you all right?"

Jack was shaking the fish out of his boottops. He looked exactly like a wet cat; eyes blazing, dripping and outraged. "Ask me later. Too close t'chowder right now." He jumped back as another monstrous carp flew by and glared at Barbossa. "That took ya long enough."

"The ship be intent on carryin' all three of us t'hell t'gether. I rather thought you might have thanked me." Barbossa slashed again and sent fish guts flying.

"I'll thank you t'stop sprayin' me with fish blood! Bastard! Ugh! An' don't you even _think_ of suggestin' a fry."

James cleared his throat and pointed. "Too late."

Jack suddenly stopped and his entire face went blank. He stared at the sea, an admirable imitation of a waxwork dummy.

Barbossa smirked. "I keep tryin' t'lose you but yer the worst penny ever spewed outta Shipwreck---"

Hector, shut it."

"I suppose that would be a case of 'be careful what others wish for'," James muttered.

Barbossa was staring over Jack's shoulder with the same 'perfectly stuffed' expression. "Now what the hell is this?"

"Not what the hell. What hell?"

Jack gulped.

All around them, licks of flame were floating on the waves. Phantom mirror images, they danced, first low and sputtering, then leaping high as the masthead and fading. They grew with every swell, the sea below them reflected by flickering tongues of green. Deep emerald, sparkling jade, acid foam, they stretched before the Calypso, engulfing her.

They backed away, midships of the Calypso, pressed to her mast as the flames licked over the bulwark, like arms stretching out to grab them. James glanced at Jack, the light flickering in his eyes. "Washed, salted, and now fried. I am certain you will be quite tasty, Sparrow." His voice shook and he swallowed. He turned, ready to haul them off course if the ship would allow, but the flames were everywhere, as though they were cradling the keel.

Barbossa's eyes narrowed as he watched Jack, who was still standing like a statue. Suddenly, Sparrow bolted to where one oar remaining of a long-gone jolly, haphazardly secured against the rail. He wrenched it free and thrust it like a spear into a bucket of tar.

"They hear the choir an' wot was it? Cold fire." Jack was muttering to himself before he leaned out over the rail with the oar and watched it catch.

"Find cold fire an' de winds turn round again," James whispered, then jumped as Jack swang the oar. "Sparrow, now is not the time to play with fire! We are amidst it!"

James ducked a flame that seemed to lash at them. Not a fighting chance. He looked up and straightened. "I suppose that is referred to as hell freezing over." He made for the helm and hauled at it, struggling to evade the fire, slashing like green whips.

"Aye! It's the perfect time to play with fire." Jack laughed as the mainsail caught and green flames licked their way to the mast.

Barbossa waved his hat's merrily burning feathers. "I'm not sure I like the idea of a green hell." His laugh was as wild as the inferno climbing the sides of the Calypso like a thousand blazing boarders.

Jack's grin was madder than Barbossa's laugh as he torched the rigging.

"I am not certain I like the idea of you being my eternal torment." James jumped away as the embers trickled down from the sail like gleaming emeralds. "Are you insane?"

"Well, let's see. We're in the midst of a sea that is on fire. I'd say it's not me who's insane." Jack laughed and let the oar drop through his fingers. His hair ignited within seconds and he grinned at James through the flickering light, then held out the oar and let it touch Norrington's shoulder.

James shouted and shoved it away, batting at flames helplessly, the fire chilling his hand to the bone as his fingers sliced through it without resistance, without effect. The fire took and spread, like a flush of icy water down his spine.

"Aye, he is completely insane. I thought you already knew that." Barbossa grabbed a belaying pin and watched it sizzle while Jack ran around like a demented firefly, touching off the planking and the rigging with a bedlam smile. "Bloody tickles!" He danced around the capstan, his bones nearly visible amid the shadow of flesh encased in eerie luminescence.

As suddenly as it appeared, it was gone like a jet of flamed gas James had once seen as a student, reduced to tiny will-o-the-wisps that faded into sunlight. Jack blew out the monkey's tail.

James stared down at his clothes in silence, no sign of charring, nothing, the Calypso cutting through the waves as she had through the flames. He cleared his throat, his voice low. "I would have thought you would burn particularly well, Sparrow, taking into account all the rum."

Barbossa examined his feathers, shrugged and stuck his hat back on his head. "Oh, Jack, yer in trouble deep. This one sees right through ya. An' ye seem to know how to light his fire."

Jack let the oar fall, making Barbossa jump to avoid getting beaned. "Oops. An' wot, pray tell, business is it o' yours? Seems to me that you're doin' just as much chasin', speakin' circuitously, as I am."

"You do indeed speak 'circuitously'," James drawled, crossing his arms to make the gooseflesh subside. It did not. The closer he came to the helm, the more the back of his neck prickled. Worse than the flames, and it was only a light breeze. He stared.

At the helm sat a woman, her white hair flowing to the deck, part of it wrapped around the spokes. The wheel turned and she spun, long, gnarly fingers choosing the threads and uniting them. She looked up, straight into his eyes, her single one clear and relentless.

Her lips did not move but there was a voice, low and comforting, smooth, reminding him faintly of his mother singing to him as a child. "Thy fate awaits, James Norrington. One step, and it begins, one choice, and it is done."

To Jack, she was a wavery image, a northern light that shimmered but made no sound. He chewed on his lip, then crept forward until his hand hovered over James' shoulder. Barbossa, too, inched towards her, his eyes narrowing.

She faded, and James stood still long after she was gone, lost in the memory of her touch on his cheek; warmth where he had expected chill; comfort where he'd braced for fear. He clutched at one helmspoke, half-expecting to feel yarn.

"Strange women lurkin' on deck seems to be a new tactic." Jack peered at James, then glared at the monkey who was beginning to screech in a dreadful, ear-piercing manner. "I never tried strangling it."

"It is undead, Sparrow. It may try strangling you with its tail." James' voice was low, but clear, and he was relieved to hear it did not shake. With a soft laugh, he turned, flashing a smile at the hand on his shoulder.

Jack pulled it back as if burnt and laughed, stalking to the rail. "Well, it could bloody well stop screamin'. Wot's the matter wif it?"

Barbossa coaxed it onto his shoulder and absently fed it a peanut, watching the way it eyed James. His lips twisted as he barked a laugh. "An' a great rousin' voyage this be. Hush, Jack. Where's the rum?"

Jack handed him the bottle in his coat pocket. "Just don't do t'stay sober 'round these parts."

James pulled his gaze from the horizon and laughed hoarsely. "Do not pretend you ever tried."

"Oh, he'll pretend all right, but I wouldn't lay odds on it bein' the truth."

"Truth bein' relative an' not one o' yours, aye?"

"Nor yours," James drawled. "Now shut up."

  
[ ch. 9](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/175397.html#cutid1)


	9. FIC:  NEVER SAY DIE  Ch. 9:  Beyond the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prize beckons, bringing with it decisions and a lot of bother. Our sincerest thanks to [](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/profile)[**smtfhw**](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/) for her excellent beta and our apologies for the delay. Ch. 10 will follow immediately. This chapter has the added lure of one of [](http://elessil.livejournal.com/profile)[**elessil**](http://elessil.livejournal.com/)'s wonderful illustrations.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:**   
|   
artistic  
---|---  
  
**Current music:**   
| trickle trickle  
  
**Entry tags:**   
|    
[fiction](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/tag/fiction)   
  
  
_**FIC: NEVER SAY DIE Ch. 9: Beyond the Sea**_  
AUTHORS: [](http://elessil.livejournal.com/profile)[**elessil**](http://elessil.livejournal.com/) and [](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/profile)[**hippediva**](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/)  
DISCLAIMER: Rodent owns 'em. We be pirates  
CHARS: Sparrington, Barbossa  
RATING: Soft R

SUMMARY: The prize beckons, bringing with it decisions and a lot of bother. Our sincerest thanks to [](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/profile)[**smtfhw**](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/) for her excellent beta and our apologies for the delay. Ch. 10 will follow immediately. This chapter has the added lure of one of [](http://elessil.livejournal.com/profile)[**elessil**](http://elessil.livejournal.com/)'s wonderful illustrations.

  
[ch 8](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/173448.html#cutid1)

  
"Sparrow, would you mind making yourself useful and reef the main course instead of bouncing around like unsecured cargo?" James plucked Jack away from himself, holding him longer than was strictly necessary to ascertain he was upright.

"Since when does th' navigator give orders?" Jack teased. Barbossa, fortunately, was busy at the bow and Jack lingered, swaying as the Calypso tipped and rolled. "Awright! Awright, I'm goin'!"

The small sloop bucked like an animal, and between the three of them (the monkey was no help at all, having buggered off below) it took all their efforts to keep her steady. Jack finished and swung himself down next to James. "Care fer a swing on th' garden gate?" He laughed and took himself forward before he got slapped.

James passed the helm to Barbossa and followed Sparrow to the bow, hauling the jib even tighter and thwapping the sheet against Jack's calf before belaying it. "Ironic. Here I thought you did not want me to see you... swing."

"Ow! There'll be none of that sort of swingin'. An' wot a gloomy ole sod you are t'think of it! Here I suggest a perfectly delightful, albeit obscene, act an' the first thing you think of is a noose. I draw the line at nooses." He grinned. "You can tie me up, but no nooses."

"May I also gag you?" James sighed, clutching the rail as he looked out over it. The surface broke into tiny maelstroms, churning and dark.

"That would defeat th' purpose, n'est-ce pas? Unless yer one o' them who don't savvy Français."

"I do believe the French also like to talk with their hands, which would preclude the tying up as well." James' raised eyebrow creased into a frown. "The sea spins as much as your broken compass."

"It's _not_ broken, just bent a l'il." Jack laughed.

Barbossa hauled at the wheel and hollered. "Jack! How about you be making yerself useful and giving him a hand instead of bendin'?"

Jack made a face. "Already did that," he muttered.

"Sparrow, he said useful, not even more impeding." James looked up at the sky, the sun still hidden by the haze, her gleam barely distinct enough to serve as orientation. The Calypso pitched and he stumbled for a hold. "We're moving in circles."

"Sounds reasonable t'me." Jack appeared to walk in a perfectly straight line to the bow; the ship was tossing and rearing so hard. He shimmied out and stared down at the criss-crossing ripples, waves at war with themselves. "I think I know why we're movin' like a dog chasin' its tail."

"Really, Sparrow?" James held up the shards of a broken oar, a toothpick in the maw of the boiling sea and a futile attempt to steer them against the currents. The Calypso shied like a spooked mare, bow raised and bucking over the waves: moving, but on no course, least of all that which her reins dictated.

"She's gonna be torn t'pieces!" Barbossa let go of the wheel and she pirouetted in place, sending him crashing into the starboard rail.

Jack was clinging to the bowsprit, not at all sure if he would be safer on deck or hanging in the rigging. "If either o' you gentlemen have any ideas, now is the opportune moment."

James slung one arm around the rail, kneeling on the deck, pushing another oar into the water. It was ripped from his hand, devoured by the hungry sea within seconds. His eyes widened and he snatched a line, lowering it slowly, until he felt the pull. The hemp twisted in the waves, and it was as if it tied around his heart, tugging in whatever direction the currents went.

Below, the Calypso's keel groaned under the strain.

"Swim!" he hollered. "The currents only begin a few feet deep. Swim!" He dropped his coat to the deck and jumped.

The stream grabbed his limbs, but it was easy to fight, and after a stroke, it was as if it cradled him, sure and steady, directing him towards a goal only it seemed to know.

Jack gesticulated wildly with one hand, hanging upside down from the bowsprit. The monkey hurtled overboard and he gulped. Then he let go.

For a moment, he felt exactly the way he felt when he strode into the Bride flush with coin and ready for a party, with every girl's hand on his arm. The waves seemed to be waging an effervescent battle over him, then, gently, pushed him towards James. He heard a splash and saw Barbossa. Within seconds, they were like a trio of puppies in a bath. "Follow him. He seems t'think he knows wot he's doin'."

Barbossa smirked as the monkey climbed on top of Jack's head and shook itself.

"Get offa me, ya mangy beast! Oh f'Gawd's sake!" The dripping monkey squeaked and did its best to hide in his wet mop. Exasperated, he struck out and followed James' lead.

When his ears were underwater, James heard a song, as insistent and luring as the sirens', but without the guile, low and comforting rather than seductive. He swam and followed, until the currents tugged at his feet, not strong enough to pull him underwater, but too strong to ignore. Taking a deep breath, he dove.

Jack tried to shove the monkey off his neck, saw James' disappear, took a deep breath and knifed himself under. The monkey held onto a lock and his left ear as he sped through water that felt light as air. Ripples broke against him and through the blue haze of the water, he saw Barbossa following.

It was warmer below, darker, the streaks of light growing rare as they pushed through the water, then, in the distance, light teased through the darkness once more. Around them, the currents coalesced into a funnel. And the funnel led to a cave, directly ahead of them, its watery maw gaping like a single eye. James headed for it and broke the surface, gasping.

Jack pushed after him, his lungs bursting as he surfaced next to James, the monkey sputtering and huffing into his hair.

Barbossa's head popped up close by, weirdly illuminated by the cave's translucent bluish light.

"Here, will ya get him offa me? He's pullin' me ears!"

Barbossa shook the water from his face. "He'd do better t'box 'em."

Jack growled and took a swing that splashed and sent echoes quivering around them.

James pulled himself onto the dark stone, cool and slick. His head jerked back, and for a moment, he looked like a parent chiding his children for making a rude noise in church. He blinked and knelt down, palm on a lapis lazuli vein, unsure whether the pulse he felt was merely his own.

The monkey, bereft of his jangling raft, paddled over to take refuge on Barbossa's back. Jack was already crawling to join James and the former admiral's face was rapt, ice-blue in the pale light, the green eyes wide and distant.

James still listened to the song in his ear, familiar like the chorus of the waves heard in a shell. A foreign sound intruded, the hiss of steel broke his reverie, and he jumped to his feet, his own sword in hand.

Barbossa erupted onto the rock, sword already drawn and Jack fumbled, yanking at his cutlass.

"Lead on, Mr. Norrington. I don't suppose you'd care t'share whatever it be yer hearin' that we can't?" Barbossa's blade touched James lightly and he grinned.

"The voice of reason, it would seem." James' brow was arched, back straight, the blood in his hand thrumming around the sword's handle. He was not surprised at Barbossa's eagerness to fight, but he was surprised at his own, at how right it seemed to fight him here...to defend this sanctum from his presence.

Jack finally got the sword out of its scabbard and slipped on the rock's polished surface, tumbling back into the water with a splash. The monkey screeched and jumped away as Barbossa waved a hand. "Please, do begin th' dance."

James smiled tightly and raised his blade, then lunged forward, staking his ground, his footing sure.

Barbossa parried and his wild laugh boomed through the cavern. "I never did think you were any man's fool, Norrington. Least of all Jack Sparrow's. Or perhaps I be misinformed." His height and the beserker ferocity of his attack made him a surprising foe. He laughed as the blades sparked and rang.

Jack had slid down the rock's edge a half-dozen times before he finally got to his feet and wavered, not sure he wanted any part of this battle.

"Fool often enough, but usually my own," James said quietly, the echo making his voice as loud as Barbossa's. "And never a fool's fool, I like to believe," he finished, smiling briefly as he glanced at Jack, then, as quickly, he focused on the fight, feet flying on stone, dodging once and then pressing forward once more..

There was little room to manoeuvre. The cave opened to a comfortable height but the water ran like a river into it and the embankments were barely wide enough to walk on, much less battle. Jack tore himself away from admiring James' skill and lunged into the fight.

Three blades crashed together, steel sparking. Barbosssa focused on Jack then, pressing the advantage of his height until James stepped in.

Jack parried Barbossa's blade, whirled, then ducked as it sailed over his head. "Never could change yer spots, Hector. I wonder, is it really a good idea fer you t'keep followin' me?"

"A bit harder t'get the true bearin's this time, Jack, but I think I've got it worked out." He kept going for James and Jack grimaced.

Fate had its own way of handling the situation. The narrow path opened into a large cavern, faint light drifting from high above, pale blue rock that gleamed and sparkled with veins of ore. There was a curiously muffled sound from the centre of the cavern where, stretching upwards to the distant light, a cyclone of wind rushed and whispered, its voice sonorous and soft.

James took a step back, shifting his balance as he spun and slashed. The monkey screeched as the feathers of Barbossa's hat went flying.

Jack dove between them, forcing Barbossa back towards the wall. The chamber was roughly circular and the eerie drone of the whirlwind sighed and sang with the ringing blades.

A faint tug startled James and he missed a beat, losing his footing and slipping to the ground. Steel flashed above him and he felt the breeze of it cutting through the air, glancing up to see Jack's blade blocking Barbossa's mere inches above his head.

He rolled sideways and jumped to his feet once more, sword raised.

"I'll not be losin' another prize t'the likes of you Jack, You must know that by now." Barbossa bore down on Sparrow.

"I'd say yer like t'get a pig in a poke like that Aztec gold at this rate, luv. I woulda thought you'd had enough. Or perhaps you just want t'keep the bloody monkey company." Jack laughed and ducked around Barbossa, luring him away from Norrington. Stupid thing to do, really, but it made perfect sense to Jack, whose concept of 'sense' was somewhat dubious. Barbossa roared a response and lunged wildly.

Their dance brought them closer and closer to the whirlwind, its roar swallowing the sound of their blades, a strange respite from the clash of steel. James struggled against the pull of the whirlwind, sucking him in as hard as it pushed away Jack and Barbossa. Caught between swords and wind, James pressed forward..

Jack spun towards Barbossa, pressing his one advantage: speed. He darted back and forth in an epileptic dance while the winds thrummed a heartbeat not his own in his ears.

Every manoeuvre towards the centre of the cavern pushed him closer to the whirlwind shoving him away. He bounced off the wall hard and stood swaying as Barbossa was forced towards him. The wind pushed them both against the cave's slippery walls and they faltered.

As though the winds tried to part them, James was sucked inwards, stumbling towards the cyclone as though he were on a pitching ship, then hauling himself away once more, back into the fray. A thrust, a parry, another lunge, his blade striking sparks against Barbossa's, then the wind grabbed hold again, like a line wrapped around his ankle.

Jack crashed headfirst into the wall, evaded a slash and turned in time to see the cyclone suck James into its spinning blur. He wheeled to fend off another blow and concentrated on not losing his footing on the glass-slick floor.

Caught within the whirlwind, James struggled: he attempted to swim, to no avail, drawn further inside until he could not even make out the flashes of colour as Barbossa and Jack fought. The roar in his ears was deafening, rising higher as he spun, carried inwards. A second later, his feet touched solid ground, and all was quiet save for the soft trickle of water.

Within the eye of the cyclone, there was an crumbling well, water dripping over tumbled stones. It bubbled up from the depths in a thin trickle over silvery pale rock and drained back to its source. The air smelled of it, sweet and clean, and yet old, so very, very old. Above him, daylight winked like a distant eye.

"One step, and it is begun." The well itself seemed to whisper.

James sheathed his sword, clutching the hilt for a second longer. His head raised, he took that step, then another, until he stood before the well, his own mirror image clear in the water, undisturbed by the tiny wavelets. He leaned forward, his hands hovering barely above the surface.

"Ask what you wish. As the water runs in your hand, so shall you have your answers." It was almost a song, not quite a dirge, nor a lament, its tone soft, unhurried and inviting.

A moment longer James stared, then he dipped his hands into the water, cool and refreshing, warm and soothing all at once. He pressed his palms together and raised them, a cup, the water trickling through his fingers. "What is this fate of which you speak?"

"Your own, which reaches out to the end of time."

"But what is my part in it?"

"You will protect that which must be protected."

"What is that, besides all there is?"

"Mysteries need protection as much as humankind needs them. You can choose to protect one, or not."

"What mystery?"

"The whisper of the waves that drew you from shore."

"Why was I chosen?"

"Your worth has been tested beyond life itself."

The last drop trickled through his fingers, a gentle touch that left his palms dry. "Am I? Am I ready?" he asked, voice shaking, but all he heard was the echo of his own question.

No doubt the voice had meant the sea, her mystery the one to be protected, from mankind and for it. How was he to do that; he, only a man who had failed more often than not when it really counted? What if he was not ready? What if he failed in that responsibility as well, if he let down even more men than he had already?

The task was presented to him, and he could not walk away, yet was still too fearful to step forward. Too hesitant to act, filled by the thought that doing nothing was better than doing wrong.

A lifetime ago, he had stood by as Jack was nearly hanged though he thought the punishment unwarranted; had waited, not certain enough to watch, nor certain enough to step in. Content to abdicate his own responsibility to the law.

He had known the heart of Davy Jones had to be destroyed, but not believed himself the man to make the final decision; had gladly sought an authority to make it in his stead. Only it had chosen differently, and his reluctance to do what _he_ thought necessary had led to havoc and death before the deed was done.

He had seen Beckett's nature; had seen the greed; had seen that the man did not deserve the trust England had given him, that this trust burnt the people of Port Royal. Yet, he'd gladly let himself be sent away to chase pirates and not watch his home ground to ashes and dust for the sake of 'good business'. He had done nothing because he knew not what to do.

All his life, he had obeyed orders. Not only because he was a good soldier, an officer; but because it meant someone above him confirmed what he did, gave him a margin within which to work. That he'd always done well, to the best of his conscience, the best of his knowledge, the limits of his strength. He'd fulfilled a mission in which he believed, but had not chosen, and when the mission was one in which he could no longer believe, he still had not stepped up to make the choice himself. Had continued to act within his margins, discontented but obedient, the soldier he'd always been, except for the weight on his conscience.

As though doing nothing meant never letting anyone down, as though it meant to never be at fault. As though it did not simply mean to give up without a fight.

Slinking away because of his guilt at what had been lost would not help any man, would not be atonement. Turning down the challenge offered to him was not humble, it was cowardly.

It was time. Time to step up, to act. Time for him to shoulder responsibility once more, for himself and by himself. He was presented with a destiny and by shying away from it he would betray all he believed to be right. He was frightened. He was unsure.

He would simply have to struggle not to be.

This time, when his palms submerged, there was no voice, no song, only a thrum as steady as the tide. As he raised the water to his lips, it tasted salty, not sharp like seawater, but intense, like hot spice that made the blood surge through his entire body.

Jack barely avoided a slash that almost took off his eyelashes as he fought the wind and Barbossa. He tried to head back towards the entrance of the cave, but the fury of the cyclone made it like fighting his way through a blizzard of spray. Then Barbossa advanced and Jack turned and ran.

He skirted the circular path, panting for breath and searching for any escape. The slippery track grew even more narrow and the wind near-pinned him to the wall. Wind or no wind, he wasn't going to stand there waiting for Hector to skewer him. Eyes squeezed shut, he shoved away from the wall right into the tornado.

Barbossa's sword slashed through thin air.

Jack had no time to think, and precious little breath, but he did manage to yell. Loudly. He was prisoned by the wind, whirling round and round like a cork in a rushing drain. "Bloody hell!" He could not so much as twitch a finger and wondered if he was going to be stuck forever spinning like a top.

Within the cyclone' eye, James started at the sudden noise, the shouting carried to him, brokenly, as though from a great distance. There was a colourful flash, and he recognised Jack's voice. The water suddenly did burn on his tongue, and he choked back the sudden urge to gag.

Without even bothering to swallow, he turned and ran, fighting the whirlwind until it sucked him in once more. He could barely see, the wind an impenetrable mist until Jack crashed straight into him. He held on, the blood rushing in his ears making him deaf to everything else.

Pressed nose-first against James' throat, Jack stopped bellowing. He found he could move his arms and clung wherever he could. He looked up and found he could see James' face perfectly, a little strained and pale, lines of worry dug between the strong brows. He was impossibly dizzy but James'presence melted any panic within the chaotic wind.

James' pulse raced, jumping under Jack's warm breath. He knew, without a doubt, the wind would not harm him. Jack....Jack he hadn't been so sure about. Strange, this relief that flooded him, impossible to deny; the sudden comfort at the warm closeness.

Did he want to live an eternity without even the chance of that? Without anyone he truly knew, without anyone he could dare to know, for fear of his mission, his task? Always turning his back, again and again, watching as those he knew died; no home to call his own because he had to walk away to avoid suspicion, spend every lifetime in a new refuge?

Responsibility was often lonely; he knew that too well. The burden was his, heavy for one pair of shoulders, but heavier still without anyone who so much as knew. Eternity, without anyone to even share the knowledge of it: a frightening thought.

Given the time, he might have laughed at his choice. Caught in a hurricane, only his heart laughed as he leaned in to press his lips to Jack's, the taste of salt still fresh on his tongue.

Jack's dark eyes shot open wide. Warm lips against his own, warm hands, strong on his shoulders, in his hair. If he thought at all, it was only one wistful little hope that he wouldn't get slapped. He leaned into the kiss, his lips parted to salt wetness; the taste of early dawn at sea and a thrill that shot from lips to toes, a clenching in his gut. Suddenly, the wind didn't matter very much. His head was whirling and light, the way it felt after a pull from a hashish pipe. He got lost in the prettiest green ocean, ebbing and flowing, jade-green currents that made him tingle and closed his eyes.

Tangled together, sharing shuddery breaths, they spun, everything forgotten until there was a deep rumble, the sound of the sea rising and stone breaking. They parted briefly and James gasped into the renewed kiss, now tentative and gentle. Jack tasted as much of the sea as the aqua de vida; different: saltier and stronger, warm instead of cool. Another rumble shook the cave and James reluctantly pulled back, their lips still brushing together as he pushed.

Jack stumbled, still clinging to the sea-dream kiss, and together, they tumbled out of the whirlwind, careening against the wall.

Barbossa jumped back, sword wavering as he stared, his lips twitching into a laugh.

Then the cavern shuddered as though a giant had grasped it from above. A hail of small stones tumbled from afar as a terrific groan rumbled from below them.

Gasping, Jack looked up at James. "I thought th'earth was supposed t'shake during, not after."

The floor rocked with another spasm, stones beginning to crack, and this time, Jack wasn't the only one running.

  
[ ch. 10-final](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/175765.html)


	10. FIC:  NEVER SAY DIE  Ch. 10: Riding the Wave  FINAL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eternity comes with ramifications. Our sincerest thanks to [](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/profile)[**smtfhw**](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/) for her excellent beta and our apologies for the delay. A a massive thank you to everyone who was so patient as we finished this story.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
artistic  
---|---  
**Entry tags:** |  [fiction](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/tag/fiction)  
  
_**FIC: NEVER SAY DIE Ch. 10: Riding the Wave FINAL**_  
AUTHORS: [](http://elessil.livejournal.com/profile)[**elessil**](http://elessil.livejournal.com/) and [](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/profile)[**hippediva**](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/)  
DISCLAIMER: Rodent owns 'em. We be pirates  
CHARS: Sparrington, Barbossa, Teague and the Double Duos of Dumb  
RATING: Soft R

SUMMARY: Eternity comes with ramifications. Our sincerest thanks to [](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/profile)[**smtfhw**](http://smtfhw.livejournal.com/) for her excellent beta and our apologies for the delay. A a massive thank you to everyone who was so patient as we finished this story.

[ch. 9](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/175397.html#cutid1)

  
The cave shook violently, the winds sinking to a sinister rumble behind them. Before them lay a leaden shore, foaming on a greenish sea that quivered like a bubble about to burst. Jack felt like he was stuck in a witchball, where one dove to reach land and shores within seas were quite the normal course of events. He slowed for a moment to marvel at it, another completely improbable defiance of any sensible laws of physics. He was certain that sensible laws and he just didn't get along on principle.

James grabbed Jack's arm as he rushed past, stumbling towards the very edge of the rocks. The scuff marks of their swords were there, but that was the only thing that remained the same: the stone was crumbling, the sea roaring; angry.

Barbossa stared and turned on his heel, the echo of his laughter broken by tumbling rocks. "If there be no chance of getting out, mayhap it is time to be getting further in."

James took off after him. "We cannot let him go back. He will die, and if he doesn't, a lot of other people will."

"Between the devil an' the deep blue sea?" Jack grinned. Except that the sea was green, and it was precisely the same colour as James' eyes. He picked up a fist-sized rock and took aim, neatly dropping Barbossa to the cave floor. Grumbling under his breath, he dodged a hail of stones to retrieve their errant third party. "Bloody pain in my arse! James, we can't get far like this!" His voice was raised against the wind.

The luring song was gone, replaced by the crash of rocks falling, nearly as well-aimed as Jack's throw. "We have to take our chance with the sea. I have no wish to be stuck here for eternity. Least of all with you." The monkey jumped onto Barbossa's chest, chittering accusingly as they dragged his limp body towards the water.

"Then why, pray tell, were you kissin' me?" Jack dropped Barbossa's arm in the surf.

"To silence your yowling." James stepped into the water, until the currents grabbed him, violent now, slapping against his knees.

"I think you owe me some kinda explanation. I mean, it's not the usual as rescues from giant bloody whirlygiggies go. Step in, pretty as ya please, grab hold an' snog? I missed that page or is it a Navy thing?"

"SPARROW! Move. NOW!"

Jack's eyes danced as the monkey began to whine. His lips quirked into a half-smile. "Wot? Calm down, luv." He fished into his boot and pulled out the long leather flask; certainly not the most elegant of repositories for deities, but safe from prying eyes and simian fingers. "Well, luv, as you say, 'tis time t' trust the sea."

There was an audible hiccup in the wind. "You always know when to play de hand, doan you, tricky Jack?"

Another boulder crashed down next to them and James tore his gaze away from the crab, shook off the urge to take it. "If you have favours to call in, Sparrow, now would be the time, before I have to carry another unconscious man!"

"Opportune moment, an' all that?" The wind growned ominously. "Tia, luv. I'm good fer it, you know that. We're square, aye? An' you'll get us outta here?"

The laughter shrieked. " Consider it gift to you. All sorts of gifts for Jack Sparrow dis day." The silver crab winked in his dirty palm, then tumbled, scuttling into the surf.

Jack turned to James. "I believe she's still tipsy."

"I pray she is not hungover."

The wind and the laughter echoed as the surf ebbed and resurrected itself into two enormous watery hands, reaching around to cradle them, and an ink-stained grin floated in the leaden sky. "Jamie Norrin'ton, you surprise even me. Newly-woke an' you stride in and snatch forever with both hands.. A bold, brave man to win da sea." Her chuckles thundered.

"Win? I cannot yet be sure of victory. The battle is barely begun," James whispered, his voice swallowed by the waves. Within them, an arm's length before him, the crab floated, steady amidst the havoc. A mystery how it was not sucked down, not washed away. As though it waited for him, waited for him to gather up his courage.

Bold and brave to win the sea. He laughed and reached out, the silvery shell smooth and cool in his hands, like the water that surrounded her.

"We get cozy now, eh, Jamie boy?" Her giggle was warm in his ears and the dripping, transparent fingers closed them in a wet bubble. Jack inched closer, oblivious to the monkey clinging to his boot or Barbossa, sprawled at their feet.

"Beg your pardon, Miss?" James held on to the crab as he would to the wheel in a storm. They surged and dove, down and away, and he gripped Jack's sleeve as they flew faster and faster through the waves until, in the distance, they could see the sunlight.

Jack clung to his arm and grinned through the spray. Then his face changed. "I think we may -----"

They all thudded to the deck of the Calypso.

"---land hard."

The Calypso no longer spun within the currents. She lay calm, as though she waited for them. James pushed himself to his feet and stumbled to the shrouds, just as Barbossa sat up and snarled, "Sparrow, ya bloody little bilgerat! It's fer reasons like that I keep wantin' to kill you." He rubbed his head and staggered to the bow. The sails groaned and filled, the sky turning to molten steel.

"Oh please, stop whining. Sparrow has been known to give headaches to harder men than yourself," James called from aloft. He slid down the backstay and stumbled to the wheel as the ship bucked.

Jack scrambled towards the rigging when the wind howled and the wave that had begun deep within the hidden cavern crashed to the surface. A stray line whipped forward, tangling around him. "Bugger."

The main yard snapped and Jack flew upward, the rope wound around his neck and pulling taut with a sickening crack.

James was up in the rigging in a heartbeat, the wheel spinning forgotten, the rudder without a guide against the currents, swaying like...Jack. He swallowed down a rush of bile and climbed out on the footropes, untangling the halyard as he slowly eased Jack's limp body to the deck. The hemp ripped his palms as he slid down the stay.

He knelt down, eyes fixed on the crooked angle of Jack's neck. Had he been wrong? Was his gift a different one, or taken from both of them as he had attempted to share it; not only the sanctuary destroyed, but also its secret? "Jack?" he whispered.

Barbossa stood over them, his lips beginning to twitch. Trust Sparrow to hang himself. He stifled a laugh. "That was long overdue."

James looked up, eyes hard and his face set tightly. "I'm glad you consider the noose amusing," he hissed, his hand on Jack's shoulder, shaking. For a long time, he had wanted to see this: now he merely wanted to look away and close his eyes.

Jack twitched, his eyes flew open and he hissed through his teeth. "Ouch." He sat up and coaxed his head straight. "Wot?"

James' hand tightened. "Impressive demonstration, I must say." His voice shook as much as he did. "Generous, even. But there was no need to hang yourself just so I could see you swing. I do believe I prefer the garden gate."

Jack grinned. "Me too." He heard Barbossa's outraged snort and skittered away on his arse. "Sorry!"

"You blasted weasel! I swear I'm gonna knock that gold outta yer gob." Barbossa took a swing at Jack, who was doing a fairly accurate impression of the monkey, skittering around the heaving deck on all fours.

"Kiss o' life, indeed! Bloody pair o' mollyboys! An' how comes an upright law-abidin' soul like yerself t'be so infatuated with such sea spume as he?" Barbossa aimed a kick at Jack's retreating backside.

"Wot's wrong, luv? Jealous?----OW!" Jack spun around and retreated out of reach, tugging at his stuck sword when the Calypso creaked and the sea went ominously flat. The wind began to suck her back, rumbling. "Bloody buggery hell!"

"Thought you be liking buggery, Jack." A giant wave raised the Calypso like the hands that had carried them and her deck shuddered, knocking Barbossa off his feet.

Jack stood up and shook his head. "Never could get the hang o' ridin' a wave." He was next to James like a shot. "You done this before, luv?"

"No, but she seems to know what she is doing." James' one hand was on the helm, the other in his pocket, closed tight around the crab's smooth shell.

"An' he should talk about buggery! Likes it in a dress," Jack whispered in James' ear, thumb jerking back at Barbossa, who was sprawling on the deck.

"Jack do like dat too, when the moment opportune. Hic."

"I consider myself eminently democratic, luv." After all, what was one more small bit of piracy, after stumbling upon immortality? Jack grinned. The Immortal Captain Sparrow, indeed. He wondered if there was a particular god of serendipity or if he was just as skewed as his luck. Then he thought about the unexpectedly unfettered horizon before him and snickered. He'd probably need eternity to figure out why James had decided on sharing the greatest treasure of them all. His grin became a leer. That promised to be lots of fun.

"Because no one would crown the fool king?" James mumbled, shielding his face against the spray. The Calypso knew her way just fine without aid from her namesake, and they rushed across the sea. "The Pearl," he whispered as he made out her dark shape in the distance.

Jack squinted and Barbossa hauled himself to his feet, the monkey leaping to its accustomed perch on his shoulder. He started to laugh. "Damn eternity t'hell. T'would be a bore t' live forever. Give me those boards beneath my boots an' I'll consider the journey well-spent." His words flew by in snatches.

Jack's face changed. "Mates, we're gonna crash." He looked at James. "Abandon ship?"

James looked down at her helm, but there was nothing that held him there, no call, no thrum, nothing but the laugh in the wind. "What came from da sea, to the sea must return."

"Abandon ship," he repeated.

As if on command, all three balanced on the rails, watching as the wave hurtled towards the huge sandbar with all the force of an angry (or at least slightly miffed) goddess. "JUMP!" Jack screamed over the wind.

The enormous wave tore the Pearl from her perch like a toy in a tub, washing her far out into open water as the Calypso shattered against the sand and disintegrated into a shower of gleaming grains. Jack pushed his way through an eternity of green water to bob like a cork beside the Pearl's black hull.

James surfaced next to him, and cleared his throat as a line dropped into the water next to him and once more, their hands touched on the line with a stingray's jolt.

Barbossa was up on deck first, his strut every bit as cocky as if he had won the prize himself. "What are ya waitin' fer? Get us movin', ya lazy sods."

Jack immediately chimed in "I want a damage report! Hoist the mainsail! Take in the oars! An' will someone get rid o' that bloody sand?"

Cotton looked at Pintel, who looked at Ragetti, who dropped his new eye. It rolled to Gibbs who stared from Jack to Barbossa to James, then behind them to the Great Cabin doors.

"BELAY ALL THAT!"

Captain Teague staggered forward, beckoning. "Shut it, both of ya. Gimme that book."

His grizzled mate handed over a tome the size of a family Bible and he stumbled forward to slam the side of Jack's head with it. "That's fer stealin' my ship, ya brat." It swung backhand to knock Sparrow to the deck. "An' that's for gettin' caught." He handed the book back.

"Abridged version," he grinned, baring his teeth at Barbossa. "You wanna take me on, boy?"

Barbossa managed a nervous smile and backed up a step.

Teague turned to grin at James. "Bloody bastard stole 'er from me in 1706. Just a 'little sail'." He cuffed Jack, who fell flat on his back.

James chuckled and helped Jack to his feet. "As he seems to be incapacitated, let me relay what I believe would be his answer: Pirate."

Jack sat up, swaying, and crawled to peer over James' shoulder. "Got her back t'you, didn't I?" He leaned close to whisper in James' ear. "Save me!"

The rotten Navy wretch simply laughed.

"Course he's a bloody pirate. He's me son." Teague slouched past them, eyeing Jack sidelong. "Wot devilment have you gotten yerself into this time?"

Jack shrugged and grinned.

"Almost innocent bystander is the term he likes to use, I believe."

The Captain turned in a whirl of shabby lace and red velvet coattails. His black eyes twinkled from a sea of wrinkles. "Why'm I sure ye've got sumpthin' t'do with that godawful smirk on his face? C'mon. Let's have a drink. Not you. Yer gonna do as yer told fer once."

"Da!"

"Shut it."

"Family likeness, I am certain," James whispered, straightening as he followed Teague to the cabin, keeping a smirk from his face as Jack and Barbossa were shooed towards the ship's bow. He turned, one hand on the cabin door. "You do know this ship is all he really wants, don't you?" His voice was soft.

Teague's leathery face crinkled into an apple-doll facsimile of Jack's. "He'll get it back. After he's cooled his heels fer a while. Just t'teach him a lesson. I bloody waited fourteen years fer him t'bring 'er back."

Pintel's shout interrupted. "I tell ya, it's eatin' a peanut!"

"I thought chimps did that?" Murtogg chimed in.

"Actually, it's one of the genus of Ateles, but they eat peanuts too."

"But it's the bloody undead monkey!"

"So? Maybe it has to eat to stay undead? Or it's just doin' what its kin's supposed to." Ragetti nodded so hard his eye fell out again.

"Bloody undead. Don't ya remember? Nothin' that tasted of anything."

"Maybe it's an undead peanut?" Murtogg offered helpfully.

"Undead peanut? Oh, please." Mulroy drawled.

James hastily followed Captain Teague into the Great Cabin before he had to listen to any more.

  
Behind the Pearl, a longboat jounced and splashed in her wake, the line between the ships bobbing with a lantern. Barbossa raised his pistol.

"STOP THAT! It bloody well hurts!"

A yellowed grin preceded the shot. "Good. Makes up fer what ya did t'poor Jack."

"Hector, will you stop muckin' about and quiet down so we can at least get back aboard?"

"Later. This is too much fun. Now what shall we sing?"

"Someone's been rockin' my dreamboat..."

FIN


End file.
